


The Touch of Death

by arsenicarose



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: A Spencer Reid love story focusing on consent for both parties, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Mentions of sexual assault history, Slow Burn, alternative universe, explicit sex in later chapters, mentions of drug use/abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 60
Words: 61,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11069970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicarose/pseuds/arsenicarose
Summary: Each chapter will have trigger warnings.She woke up chained and blind-folded, but she finds a way out. She finds freedom. But that freedom comes with a price. When the BAU finds her, they think she is a monster, but they realize she is just a scared woman with an unexpected ability.NEW EDIT!: Elia's story has been continued! It is in the Star Wars fandom, but I think it turned out well. It's called "Stone's Throw Away from Home."





	1. A Wish Comes True

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Graphic violence, capture, feeling trapped, not actually assaulted, but almost.

She had always wanted wings. Freedom called to her like nothing else; wings were the best way to escape. Birds would flit by her, and she would watch them enviously as they did. If she got too close, they would spread their wings and take off. Their frantic feathers would beat, and they would fall into a relaxed arc, no longer afraid. They knew she couldn’t follow.

She wanted wings now more than ever. Her eyes were covered by a heavy dark cloth, and she was chained to the ground. Her arms and neck were heavy with the weight of irons, her screams dead in her throat as her voice was choked out of it. She had tried to cry out earlier, but the movement of her vocal cords had caused the collar to scrape at her skin. Silent tears were the only sign of her anguish.

She didn’t know where she was, or why. No one had spoken to her since she was taken, except to say, “Shut the FUCK up!” Each swear was accentuated with a kick, slap, or punch. Now, she was alone, thoughts left to dwell on birds and freedom.

A door creaked open behind her. Fear gripped her with razor blade hands, and she prayed to anything for help. Someone unlocked her various restraints and replaced them with something smaller. Handcuffs? They closed around her sensitive wrists with a click. They were too tight, and they bit into her painfully.

The person dragged her out of that room, blindfold still on. No noise escaped her, for fear of being hit. Even through the thick blindfold, she could tell the amount of light was changing. Her cell had been dark, the next place was brighter, the next dim, and the place where they stopped was luminous. 

“Let her see me,” a cool voice commanded from the darkness. There was no threat, no menace, but her blindfold was removed immediately.

She blinked in the sudden harsh light. The voice had clearly put a lot of effort into disarming her, and it was working. She was wearing a tank top, bra, shorts, and underwear, couldn’t see, and was bound. She didn’t think she would ever stop being afraid.

Her eyes adjusted slowly, and she looked to the source of the voice. He was sitting on a throne in a warehouse. She called it a throne, because that is what it was meant to be, but it was just a chair on a raised platform. The voice clearly meant for this to be his throne room, but modern times limited how royal one could be.

His voice was imposing, but he was not. He looked small in the throne, maybe he was slight of build, maybe he was short, or maybe it was some combination of the two. She couldn’t really tell from the distance. He looked remarkably average, and she knew that he had to be ruthless if he looked like that and still ruled with such surety.

Though fear was coursing through her, she tried not to show it. She looked around casually and saw only three men: the voice from the throne, the one who had dragged her in, and one by the door. They obviously didn’t think much of her. It might be because she was hungry, dehydrated, and handcuffed.

“Bring my latest offering.” His voice was still cool. 

She could not actually read a commanding tone from it, but she was taken towards him. She did not try to fight, because she knew would lose. She needed to wait for a better time.

“Take off her clothes and leave her with me.”

“No!” she screamed. She knew what came next, and she could not face it again.

The guard ignored her pleading and pulled down her shorts. The handcuffs were still in place, so rather than take her tank top off normally, he simply tore it off.

She pulled away from the guard as her tank top came off, his hands no longer attached to her body. The door was guarded, but she didn’t care. Maybe if she put up enough of a fight, they would simply kill her.

The guard at the door didn’t move until she got close. When she was within reach, he stuck out his arm so fast she couldn’t anticipate it. It caught her in the collarbone. She lost her balance and fell to the floor. The ground reached out and bit her, and she groaned in pain. The door guard tossed her unceremoniously over his shoulder and walked her back to the throne. She kicked and screamed, but he didn’t notice.

He dropped her at the base of the raised platform suddenly, and she fell in a heap in front of the throne. He uncuffed her, and kicked her in the ribs so she would stop fighting. She gasped in pain, and she swore she had heard a snap.

Out of options, she prayed one last time. She whispered into the cold, hard ground, “To whoever is listening, please let me be free. I would do anything to be free.”

“DONE.” A voice she didn’t recognize echoed through the room. She jerked her head up, terrified, but no one else had heard. Was she going mad now?

As she was attempting to push herself up, she got her reply in pain that tore open her back. She screamed raw, terrible screams and she saw the door guard step back, his shoes retreating a few paces. She turned to the throne with wild eyes, and even that man had stood and started to back away. What was happening?

The thought disappeared as the pain worsened. It felt like someone was ripping her shoulder blades out of her through her spine. She collapsed on the ground and writhed, screaming again. A sickening, wet, ripping sound filled her ears. Was that her body? What had she done?

She found herself curled in the fetal position as her back shredded itself to pieces. A feeling of giving birth to something large came, as her shoulder blades pushed something out from under them. The sensation was too much and she lost herself to oblivion, passing out. Her last thought was of what they would do with an insane woman while she was unconscious.

***

She woke up, head swimming, confused. Why did everything hurt? What had happened?

Her eyes creaked open to see the door guard had not moved closer. He had actually stepped back a few more paces. The guard who had brought her in was clear across the room, horror painted on his face. She tried to get up, and she could feel the pain lessening, like magic. She felt much better. An aura of calm filled her, making her forget the pain and danger.

Her legs were a little shaky as she turned to the throne. The man was hiding behind it, white as a sheet. She almost thought it was funny, until she felt movement behind her.

She turned to see it, and glimpsed the corner of a claw, but it disappeared behind her. What? She stretched her back, trying to loosen it, and found new muscles there. Curious, she flexed them. The claw reemerged, attached to a skinned thing. She flexed again and felt air tickle her, rustling her hair. She flexed them again, harder, and the wind become stronger and shifted downward. A small amount of lift almost made her lose balance.

“What happened?” she asked no one in particular.

The man behind the throne said, “Clearly she is the devil’s child! Kill her and get her out of here, now!”

She turned to glare at him, and something in her body took over. She flexed those new muscles as hard as she could, and she was in the air. She looked to her hands as if they should be weapons, and then they were. One moment, they were her normal hands, the next they were clawed. She laughed, not caring that this was clearly a dream. She knew what to do. Instead of launching herself at the man who wished he was a king, she flew backwards, flipping in the air. She landed behind the man who had dragged her in here.

“Now you see me,” she hissed, her voice not entirely her own, “now you don’t.” She slapped her hand over his face and dragged the claws across his eyes. He fell to the ground screaming, his very normal hands helpless to stop the bleeding.

It felt right as his blood dripped from her talons, and she launched herself to the door guard.

“Catch me if you can,” she cackled, slashing his neck and chest in one fell swoop. He collapsed quieter, gurgling through the cut to his larynx.

Now, the king. She let those new muscles thrust her into the air. She felt powerful winds holding her aloft, and she let herself hover over the man behind the throne. Those new muscles flexed, and she heard something whooshing in time with them. He was shaking with fear, and that pleased a very dark part of her.

Her landing was something of grace and beauty. Those clawed things attached to her flared out, and she imagined that they framed her nicely. This was the best revenge fantasy she had ever had.

“Please, I’ll do whatever you want, don’t hurt me!” the pitiful man begged.

“Am I the first?” she asked, calmly. She had all the time in the world.

“What?”

“Am. I. The. FIRST?” He knew what she was asking, and feigning ignorance wouldn’t save him.

He paused, clearly trying to think of the best answer to give. He settled for the truth. “No.”

“But I will be the last.” It wasn’t a question, she was going to make it a fact.

“Of course! I will never do this again,” he rambled, “I have seen the error of my ways and I will never take a girl against her will again. You have showed me-”

“Shut up,” she said quietly, cutting him off.

He immediately stopped talking.

“You think you are king here?” she asked, her voice still low.

“I, uh, well, sort of, I mean that, it would be n-”

“A simple yes or no will work.”

“Um, yes?”

“I guess you need a crown, then?” She cocked her head to the side, a mischievous glint playing across her eyes.

“Oh, no. No, no. I’m fine. No need to be king. You can be queen? Or leave? Whatever you want, but I don’t need a-”

“I insist.” She interrupted, grinning. She wrapped her newly clawed hands around his head. “Unfortunately, I don’t have anything to make a crown out of, but you don’t deserve a normal crown, do you?”

She didn’t let him answer, instead scraping her claws across his skull. 

He let out a panicky, sputtering scream, still unsure of what was happening. By the time he would have figured it out, he was gone, blood spilling unhindered down his face. She released him and he fell to the ground, silent.

A look around the bright room showed three very still bodies. She was satisfied, and she felt the power that had possessed her leave. The claws sank into her hands, leaving normal, albeit very bloody, fingers. Whatever had grown out of her back was still very much there, however. No matter what she did, it would not go away. All she could do was make them move.

She looked around one last time, expecting to wake up. This had been a wonderful fantasy, but they had never lasted past the revenge. She shook her head, and the scene remained the same. Wait, was this real?

Panic set in now. She was covered in blood, most of it not hers. The adrenaline started leak out of her and she felt her raw throat and wrists, her bruises, and all her other aches. She was working up to a good panic attack when the door banged open.

“FBI! Jamie Rowland, don’t move! We have the place surrounded!”


	2. Negotiating with a Demoness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of wounds sustained in previous chapter, blood, arrest

She turned to the door and saw a collection of people in bullet proof vests, guns pointed right at her. She threw her bloody arms in the air, the things behind her opening and closing in fear.

Their faces paled, and one of them whispered, “Oh my god.”

Another one almost let his gun drop. Panic danced naked across his brown eyes. “She has wings!” He turned to another agent, “Why does she have wings?!”

Wings! Oh, that made sense. Her brain was fuzzy from all the events that had occurred, and she hadn’t been able to find the word without seeing them, until now. As if being named gave them more power, they extended behind her fully, before folding neatly behind her back. If they didn’t shoot her, she would have to take a look at them.

“I am not Jamie Rowland,” she said, loud and clear. She was not afraid of them or of dying. She had freed herself and many others from whatever the man’s plan was.

“Uh, yeah, we can see that…” An African-American agent said, walking toward her slowly. When she did not make a move toward him, he relaxed ever so slightly. “He was the self-titled king of this organization. Do you know where he is?”

Oh. Oh! She laughed, “Some king, eh? He is behind the throne. He and his were going to do… something to me, so I stopped them, with help I guess.” She shrugged. She had no name for the voice or the gift given.

A female agent with brown hair circled around her, gun pointed at her the entire time, before reaching the throne. “He has been scalped. With what, I don’t know,” She paused, then added, “he’s dead.”

A calming male voice made her turn her attention back to the group. He was the one who had asked about her wings. “What’s your name?”

She hadn’t been captured for that long, but she had to think. Who was she? Her brain was still fuzzy, and it was like everything was locked behind the fog. “Elia, Elia… Stone.”

The man who owned the calming voice lowered his weapon, holstering it. His hands now free, he tucked a lock of brown hair behind his ear. “Hello Elia, my is Spencer. I’m sorry, but did you kill these men?” he asked, starting toward her.

A spike of fear stabbed her stomach. Killing was wrong. FBI agents were police officers. They wouldn’t care about the why, just the fact that she had done it. Her wings flared out with nervousness, like she would take flight.

The agent stopped in his tracks, eyeing the new growths behind her. He took a deep breath and said, as calmly as possible, “We do not blame you for this. We just need to know. You have to know this is quite a scene to walk into.” He smiled gently, but uneasily.

She thought about that for a moment. If memory served her, she was mostly nude still, covered in wounds, and splattered with blood. She laughed, heartily. How this must look! Her laughter did not reassure him. He licked his lips nervously, but besides that he remained very still. In fact, no one was moving. Were they scared of her? She scanned the room. All the agents but him had guns on her. They looked composed, but they were shaking a little. His hands twitched like he wanted to grab his gun again, but he was resisting.

“Sorry, I just realized what I must look like. I haven’t even seen my, uh, wings? Is that what they are?” She felt giddy, stupidly so, but she rolled with it.

“She’s in shock,” someone whispered. She couldn’t tell who.

She started to feel overwhelmed again, as if their words were a spell that made her feel it. She had killed those men. Oh god, she had. Horror flashed across her face as she remembered their screams.

“I need to ask you again,” the man called Spencer said, drawing her attention back to him, “did you kill these men?”

She froze in place, but she allowed a single word to escape her. “Yes.” Her wings fanned out further, then wrapped around her, like protection. She didn’t dare look at those wings, didn’t dare look away from all the guns pointed at her. The reality of all those guns hit her, and she became terrified. “What’s happening to me?” She squeaked, “What did I do?”

His eyes softened slightly, though she could see they were still tight with fear. He took a few tentative steps towards her. “If you come with us, we can try to find out, okay? I promise we won’t hurt you.”

She shook in place. Her wings unraveled and dropped behind her. She could feel that they were brushing the ground, and that startled her. They had feeling?!

“Come with us, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

“I killed those men,” she said.

“Yes, you did, but you can’t see yourself.”

Her wings quivered behind her.

“No, no, not those. You are clearly injured. Let us help you, please,” Spencer pleaded.

“Okay,” she said, quietly. She held her arms out in front of her and closed her eyes. She could hear him walking toward her, unsure footfalls ringing against the pavement. His soft hands touched hers, and she jumped, her eyes flying open.

“If you come with us quietly, I think we can leave handcuffs out of it.” He looked down at the raw ruin of her wrists, and back up into her eyes.

She nodded, deciding “quietly” meant silently. Her hands fell to her sides.

“Follow me, okay? No sudden moves, especially from those, please.” He gestured behind her.

She nodded.

He walked forward, half facing her, and she followed without a sound. The other agents said nothing, but she felt two fall in line behind her. She was sure their guns were still pointed at her, but she tried not to think about it.


	3. The Ambulance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: scar description, blood mention, abuse mention, capture revisited, memory loss

Spencer led her to a waiting ambulance. No one spoke. The silence made her skin crawl, but she couldn’t break it.

The paramedic did that for her. “What the FUCK?”

She looked around helplessly, forcibly holding her wings in place so they would have less reason to shoot her. She caught Spencer on her left, giving them a look.

A man to the right of her spoke with a calm authority, lightly touched with threat, “I am SSA Aaron Hotchner. This woman is injured and needs medical assistance. The FBI will deal with her… special situation once she is healed.”

She relaxed slightly, and let herself be led into the ambulance. It was a bit of a maneuver with her wings, but she found she could fold them around the gurney, getting them mostly out of the way.

Once she was inside and settled, Spencer started to leave. She grabbed the empty air behind him helplessly.

“Wait!” she said finally, breaking her vow of silence.

He turned and looked at her.

“Please don’t go…”

Confusion flashed across his face, and he hesitated. “Why?”

“Because… You, um, you…” She trailed off.

He waited, patiently.

“You are the only one who promised not to hurt me… No one else said they wouldn’t when you said ‘we.’”

Sympathy flooded his face, and he stayed by the door.

“Reid!” a voice called from outside.

“I’ll be right back,” Spencer said to her, “whether I am going to ride with you or not. I promise.”

She nodded, as he slipped out of the vehicle.

A loud discussion sprouted outside, but she couldn’t pick out most of the words. The only thing she caught was, “killed those men, Reid! She’s dangerous!” 

She didn’t know for sure who “Reid” was, but she guessed it was like a nickname or something for Spencer. Did he read a lot or something? Was he born among tall grasses? She was still thinking about it when he climbed back inside the ambulance

“I understand,” she said quickly, “I know why you can’t come with me. I won’t hurt you, but they are right to be cautious. Forget I said anything.”

A look crossed his face, but this one she couldn’t quite read. If she had to guess, she would have gone with “sad understanding,” but that didn’t seem to cover it all.

“No, I’m coming with you. Do you promise not to hurt me? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I promise not to hurt you, or anyone else. I don’t want to. I didn’t even want to…” she trailed off and leaned back into the gurney. It was a little awkward with the new protrusions on her back.

He lay a gentle hand on her knee, and she jumped, scaring everyone in the ambulance.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, concern creasing his face.

“No,” she replied, not willing to explain why unseen touch scared her.

“If we are doing this, we need to get going,” the paramedic grunted. He was clearly not happy about this, but he would do his duty anyway.

Spencer turned to him. “Let’s go then.” He closed the back doors of the ambulance as the paramedic knocked on the driver’s window twice. The ambulance pulled away.

She tried to relax, but she couldn’t find a good position, and she suddenly realized she was in an enclosed space with two men. Spencer seemed nonthreatening, but didn’t they all?

The paramedic looked at her injuries as they started to move, and his clear anger softened. She didn’t know what her injuries were exactly, but they seemed to be worth sympathy.

The paramedic stood and walked around her, giving her wings a wide berth. He leaned over from a step away to look at her. She tried not to squirm under his gaze, suddenly remembering how nude she was.

Her eyes found Spencer’s, and he looked unsure of himself. She imagined he would have given her a comforting touch, but the last had made her jolt so visibly. She guessed he wouldn’t try that again. He settled for a reassuring smile.

The paramedic gently pressed onto her chest, just below her left breast. Her breath left her in a pained gasp, and her new wings twitched anxiously beneath them.

After that, the paramedic made a great effort not to touch her either, scanning her in his awkwardly contorted position as best he could. 

When he was done, he turned and spoke to Spencer, ignoring her completely. She briefly wondered what he would have done if Spencer wasn’t here.

“She has clear ligature marks around her wrists and neck. Those areas have some pretty severe abrasions from the friction.” He pointed to her wrists. “It seems that handcuffs were put onto her at some point, and those left thin contusions on the abrasions.” He pointed to the spot he prodded below her breast. “Her ribs here are definitely bruised, but not broken. In fact, she has no broken bones. Just many contusions.” His finger gestured to some of the visible bruises before pointing to her face. “Here you can see some lacerations and abrasions. It looks like that was from the ground.”

“You haven’t looked at her dorsal injuries,” Spencer commented.

The paramedic looked uneasy. “I don’t think we have space to accommodate her turning over, considering the, uh, appendages.”

She had kept silent for all this, but said quietly, “I can manage it.”

The paramedic jumped, as if he forgot she was cognizant. “Um, yes, of course. I’ll just get out of your way.” He pressed himself against the wall close to the driver and braced himself.

She wondered why he looked so afraid, but she suddenly had a memory of a claw. She had seen it briefly when she didn’t know what the wings were. Oh. She deeply wished they would disappear.

When nothing happened, she gingerly lifted herself, wincing as all her aches came to greet her. Maybe the adrenaline hadn’t left her system like she had thought. Or maybe it came back when the agents arrived. 

She clenched her wings against her body as hard as she could, feeling the muscles protest the tightness. She turned and lay on her stomach, curling the wings around the gurney again. She felt much more vulnerable like this, but at least she wasn’t lying on top of them anymore.

Spencer let out a small sound, and she lifted her head slightly.

“What’s wrong, Spencer?”

The paramedic answered for him. “Oh my god. It looks like they tore out of her body! That’s where all the blood is from…” He was clearly talking to Spencer again, but she didn’t let it bother her.

“Elia, did… Did this hurt? Your wings?”

Her mind took her back to the base of the raised platform. She remembered the searing, tearing pain as they tore her open and birthed themselves from beneath her scapulas. “Yes,” she answered, hearing the shakiness in her voice.

The paramedics voice was softer now, as if he had blamed her before, but now considered her a victim. “The wounds look old. They are gnarled and scarred, but healed. How is there so much blood?”

“It happened just before the FBI agents came.” She frowned, though no one could see. “I don’t know how long ago, but today, probably.”

“But they are healed! How did that happen? Why is nothing else healed?” the paramedic asked, almost frantically.

There was a pause, then Spencer mused, “Maybe other things were healed. Elia, how did you get the bruising on your ribs?”

“The door guard threw me on the ground, took off the cuffs, and kicked me in the ribs.”

“Did he kick you hard?” Spencer asked.

“Yes, but I don’t know how hard. I don’t have any force to compare it too. I think I heard a crack, but I didn’t know what it could be.”

“What are you getting at, Dr. Reid?” The paramedic asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

She had a moment to ponder on Dr. Nickname while Spencer thought about it.

“What if the wings forming forced her body to heal some of the injuries? If she was dropped onto the floor, and kicked, her face should be more scraped, her ribs should be broken, and she should definitely have more bruising on her back.”

He stepped closer to her, and she could feel his body heat on her wings. The paramedic’s voice became more serious. “You might be right. There are absolutely no injuries on her back, but there should be. There is a lot of blood here, and she wouldn’t have blood on her back doing what she did.”

She would have been more excited about this rapid healing if she could send her wings back inside. If them coming out had healed her, was it a onetime deal?

“Come to think of it,” Spencer interjected suddenly, “shouldn’t these abrasions be worse? Elia, how long were you chained?”

“Um, I don’t know? A while?”

She heard dialing, then a woman’s voice on speaker.

“Hello, my lovely Doctor! What can I do for you? My fingers are a quiver, ready for instruction!” the bubbly voice said. She had picked up on the second ring.

“Garcia, quick. Look up an “Elia Stone” in the database. Was she ever reported missing?” Spencer asked the phone.

Elia heard clicking and tapping, before “Garcia” answered, “Elia Stone, 25 years old, reporting missing almost two weeks ago by her place of work. They said in the report that she was really good at communicating to them about needing time off. When she didn’t show up two days in a row without a peep, they were worried. A search of her home showed she wasn’t there, but her phone, wallet, and keys all were.”

Everything slammed back into place. The life her brain had been hiding from her came back painfully, and she felt a tear escape her. Oh God, they took her! She remembered it all now. Another tear escaped, and she held herself against the gurney tightly, trying not to sob. Her wings squeezed her comfortingly, and she didn’t flinch.

“Thanks, Garcia.” Spencer said, hanging up. “Elia, do you remember what day you were actually… taken?”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. “It was Saturday, I think.”

“If you were reported missing on Tuesday… That is almost two weeks of being chained, which should have left worse abrasions.” Spencer said to the paramedic. “Elia, were you chained the whole time?” 

“I think so…” she replied, “I don’t remember it all. I have blank spots.” More accurately, it was mostly blank.

“I’ll take a blood sample,” the paramedic said. His voice had grown softer with each tragic circumstance. Maybe he felt bad for her now.

The rest of the ride to the hospital was quiet. She looked up at Spencer once, but he was deep in thought. The paramedic tried to give her pain meds at some point, but she refused them. He didn’t ask again.


	4. Arriving at the Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: forced weight loss, weight loss

When they arrived at the hospital, the driver came out to help wheel her into the emergency room. She was happy her wounds were less than they could have been, but they definitely still hurt. She hadn’t tried to flip back over. She didn’t want to lie on her wings and she didn’t want Spencer to see her face. When she realized he was lost to his own mind, she had allowed herself to cry.

The other agents arrived shortly after the ambulance, turning off their sirens as they stopped next to it. SSA Aaron Hotchner looked relieved to see Spencer alright, but pulled him aside to talk to him. She couldn’t say a word as she was whisked away.

She got a room of her own, but she imagined it was because of her wings more than anything else. The paramedic and the driver left her there, promising a doctor would be in shortly. The paramedic stopped at the door for a moment, and managed a “Sorry for treating you like a monster,” before following his colleague. She hadn’t thought “monster” until he said it, and now she was scared.

She carefully lifted herself off the bed, her body protesting every movement. She ignored it, needing to see her own face and her wings. She wobbled over to the small mirror over the sink and took it all in.

She was still wearing just a bra and panties. The gowns at this hospital apparently weren’t backless, apparently. She tried not to let that bother her. Her eyes dragged up to her face, trying to focus anywhere but her partial nudity.

Her face shocked her. It was all angular and pale. Horror traced cruel lines across her skin and perched behind her blue eyes. Before her capture, she had been a little thicker, curvier. She had a nice pooch on her tummy and a softness to her face, but now she was all bones. Her brown, almost black, hair was disgusting. It had been in a ponytail, but it was barely contained now, sticking out at all angles. She was also spattered with blood. She wanted nothing more than to take a shower.

She took several deep breaths and backed up a few paces, trying to fit her wings in the mirror’s frame. The first word she thought when she saw them was _monstrous_.

First, there were the talons. Each “finger” bone of the wing ended with a sharp claw, some longer than others. With some gentle testing, she found them to be retractable. That was probably how she hadn’t hurt anyone in the ambulance.

Next, she noticed they weren’t skin, they were made of glittering black scales. She had never seen wings like these in nature, and she became afraid. The talons unsheathed as anxiety took her, but she pushed them back inside.

Finally, they were huge, she couldn’t get them all in frame no matter how far she backed up. She guessed they had to be if they were going to lift her. She wrapped them around herself as she had done before, and found they could cover her entire body.

She looked down, and she could see the scales more clearly. A tentative finger brushed the scales. The texture wasn’t as alarming as she had thought it would be. It was smooth and almost soft, if she didn’t go against the grain. Going against the grain was sharp, and she almost cut her finger open. Her hand dropped, but her wings wrapped around her. They seemed to want to protect her, and that made her feel better. She couldn’t imagine having these attached to her maliciously.

She turned and looked from every angle. The more she saw their anatomy, the more she was able to control them. They moved on their own less, and she could feel them as part of her body, like an arm or leg. She was testing her wings when the agents walked in.

They startled her, and her wings exploded out, hitting the walls on either side. That hurt them, so she gently drew them back in and around her. She didn’t know how strong they were, but she felt safe.

The agents seemed unsure of what to do. SSA Aaron Hotchner and the African-American agent had reached for their guns, but had not drawn them. The brunette woman’s eyes were wide, and Elia realized that woman had seen the full horror she had committed. Only Spencer looked calm.

“We scared her guys. She is jumpy.” He said, pushing past them into the room. “Elia, you should be resting.”

She looked at the floor, and slowly let her wings drop around her. “I needed to see them,” she whispered.

“You had never seen them?” He asked, clearly surprised.

“No. Today was the first…” she said, looking up to try to meet his eye.

Spencer paused, unsure of what to say, but decided to change the subject. “Let’s introduce you to the team, shall we?”

She nodded.

“Alright, well, you’ve met me a little, but my name is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Oh! Last names, right.

“This is Aaron Hotcher,” he continued, pointing to him.

“Please call me Hotch,” Hotch added.

He pointed to African-American man. “This is Derek Morgan, and this is Emily Prentiss” he finished, pointing to the brunette.

Derek Morgan added, “The rest of the team is on their way. They were at another location.”

The rest of the team? Her wings twitched, but she didn’t let them wrap around her again.

“Don’t worry,” Spencer said, “The rest of the team is nice, and, uh, we’ll… We’ll talk to them before they see… you...”

Emily Prentiss spoke, finally, “Elia, is it alright if Reid and I ask you some questions? Hotch and Morgan will be outside, guarding us and you from each other. Okay?”

“Yeah, of course, ask away.” Elia replied.

Hotch and Morgan stepped outside, standing on either side of the door. Emily Prentiss and Spencer moved some chairs directly in front of her, taking care not to touch her wings.

Elia knew what they were doing, they had picked the least threatening people to her and paired them, so they weren’t alone with her. She didn’t care though. The thought of telling this to those two men just outside the door made her stomach flip. Spencer seemed a lot less threatening. He was male, but less oppressively so than the other two.

“Alright, Elia,” Emily Prentiss said, drawing Elia’s focus to her, “What happened. Start at the beginning. Don’t worry, you are safe here, and Reid and I will be with you the whole time. Close your eyes, and tell us what you see.”

Elia’s eyes flicked to Spencer and he gave her a reassuring smile.

She looked back to Emily and took a deep breath, her eyes slipping closed.


	5. Cognitive Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: gore, capture, drug mention, drugging, panic

“I was home alone Saturday. One of my housemates went to her boyfriend’s house for a few days, and the other hadn’t moved in yet. The power went out, and I freaked out a little. My computer screen kept the room from going completely dark, and I used that light to find a real flashlight. I wandered around the apartment, finding all the lights out. The light in my room sometimes gets messed up by my dresser, so I wanted to check.

“After I figured out it was the whole house, I wanted to see how far the outage went. I put on some shoes and went outside. I didn’t bring anything, because I was just stepping out for a moment, and I left the door unlocked, so I wouldn’t have to bring my keys.” She stopped, eyes flying open. “Oh god, what if my house was robbed? My housemate will be so mad I left it unlocked!”

Spencer spoke, causing her to turn her head, “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s not your fault. You were planning to come right back in. What happened next?”

She took a deep breath, knowing the worst hadn’t even come yet. She let her eyes close again, fingering the scaled folds of her left wing. The absent-minded gesture was surprisingly grounding. “I walked down the steps and saw the whole neighborhood to the right was black. The neighborhood to the left had light though. I suddenly realized I was alone in the dark, so I turned to go back inside. Then…” 

She paused, panic rising. “Then… I was grabbed. One held me, the other… Something pokes me. It hurts, but then… Nothing.”

Her eyes opened again, “They drugged me!”

Spencer spoke, “That is probably why you had blank spots in your memory. Can you try to work through them? What happened when you woke up?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to go back. She fought the urge to stop. These agents had to trust her. “I see a dark room. Collar and chains on my wrists. I’m so tired. I don’t want to move. He hears me waking and pokes me again… That happens again and again…” Her brows furrow in concentration. “I can’t get more than that until I was taken to the king…”

His leering eyes peered at her through the haze in her brain. She could survive that; he was dead. The image became him kneeling in front of her, blood oozing, dripping, then gushing from between her hands. Her already bloody hands. She was seized with fear. The men’s deaths played over in her mind: blood, flesh, screams.

Spencer’s voice came from nowhere, “Elia, Elia! It’s okay, you’re in the hospital. You’re safe. Open your eyes.”

Her eyes flew open, and she realized she was panting. Her wings were spread high and wide, like she would take off. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. Her wings knocked something over, so she pulled them in again, slowly, and held the hand on her shoulder.

It was Spencer’s, and he looked pained. She let go of his hand.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He patted her shoulder twice, pleased when she didn’t jump, and replied, “It’s okay. I know this is hard. I can understand why you are jumpy.” He pulled his hand away, resting it on his lap.

She suddenly found herself wanting that comfort again. She wanted to be wrapped up in someone’s arms, she wanted to cry, and she wanted to sleep. She wrapped her wings around herself, and felt herself calm. They gave her a light squeeze.

Emily Prentiss gently placed a hand on her knee. She jumped again and cursed herself.

“I know this is hard, Elia, but I need to keep going. Is that okay?” Emily Prentiss asked.

“Yeah… okay.”

“Since they drugged you often, it seems, lets jump to today. What happened today? You met the so-called king today, right?”

Elia told them everything fluidly, until the wings part came. She was afraid what they might think. In that moment, she remembered what she had said in her prayer. “To whoever is listening, please let me get free. I would do anything to be free.” What had given her wings? What did they want in return? Was she now a child of the devil, like the man had said?

“It’s alright,” Spencer said, “We won’t judge you. This is about your wings, right? You didn’t have them before today? You’ve never had them before.”

“Yeah...” she replied, hesitantly. “I, uh, I begged for freedom. I said I would do anything to be free… And, um, and… This voice, it, uh, it said, ‘Done.’ I don’t know where it came from… Then, then the wings, my back, it split open. Oh god it hurt so much. They tore free of me. I don’t know how… I don’t know what happened. My hands…” She looked at her hands. Normal, but blood covered. Her mind’s eye could see the talons, and she forced them to her side.

“Your hands…?” Emily Prentiss prodded gently.

Elia looked up. Both Emily Prentiss and Spencer’s faces were controlled, tight. She couldn’t tell how they felt about her deal with whomever.

“My hands…” she continued, “I thought that they should be weapons, and they were. They became claws. I didn’t know… My wings… They have claws or talons… I didn’t know.” She shook her head. “I clawed… the eyes out… of the guard who blindfolded me. The door guard hit my collarbone, so I, uh, tore the skin off his. The king… he wanted a crown…” She drifted off.

“Ah,” Emily Prentiss said to Spencer, “their wounds make a lot more sense now.”

Both faces were still calm, and this made Elia frantic. “Why aren’t you freaking out right now? I am a monster!” Tears fell unbidden, and she almost didn’t care. “A m-monster! A freak! I k-k-killed them!” She felt herself falling into hysterics.

Spencer slowly put his hand on her shoulder, making sure she could see. She didn’t jump, so he gently squeezed. “Elia,” he said, calmly, soothingly, “This isn’t your fault. I don’t know how or why it happened, and it is… bizarre, but we are here to help. We won’t hurt you. You are safe here. They are gone, and we don’t blame you. I, honestly, think they are fascinating. I won’t let the Bureau hurt you.”

Elia felt like a gong was going off in her body. Her wings shivered violently. She gasped and scrambled away from them.

“Elia, are you okay?” Concern creased Spencer’s face.

She felt that familiar now pain filling her back. Oh god no, not again! She managed to say, “Please, don’t worry. I will probably be okay.” Then her back ripped open, and she screamed.

She curled up in the fetal position on the bed, thinking it would help, like it had last time. It did not. Her back bowed and she arched with it, contorting painfully. She heard concerned voices around her, but could not begin to acknowledge them.

This was much more painful than before. She felt her shoulder blades forcibly separate and tear, a wet ripping filling the room. She could feel the bleeding, and her wings forced themselves back inside her. She felt like she would explode. They were so huge and there was no space in her emaciated back for them. She felt the full size of both wings shove themselves under her shoulder blades, ripping her spine to pieces. She was shaking violently, and occasionally, she would feel hands on her, but they couldn’t hold on to her.

The pain became too much, and she passed out.


	6. The Permanency of Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: scars, sensory overload

She woke up, and her back was sore again. As she woke, the pain began to lessen, just like last time.

A cacophony of voices suddenly filled her ears. She couldn’t make anything out, but it was all too much. She covered her ears and curled in on herself.

The voices abated, but she just squeezed herself together tighter. Her back was starting to feel better, and she concentrated on that.

A voice called to her from far away. “Elia… Are you alright?” Spencer.

She relaxed slightly.

“Elia? Can you open your eyes for me, please?”

She eased her eyelids open. Reality came back in a rush, and she blinked a few times to accommodate. The pain eased, and she felt calmer. She pulled her hands down from her ears and sat up.

Her back felt lighter. She hadn’t realized how heavy those wings were until they were gone. She stretched, feeling familiar muscles. The soreness eased moment by moment.

“Elia, can you speak?” Spencer asked.

She found his eyes, and he looked panic stricken. She scanned the room, and saw similar expressions on everyone there, even on Hotch, who seemed so hardened to her. There were two doctors in the room now, too. One man looked to be in his fifties, the other was no more than thirty.

“Yes,” she croaked. She put a hand over her mouth. “What? Why does my throat hurt?”

Spencer handed her a glass of water, but said nothing.

The older doctor answered for him, quietly, “Because you were screaming.”

She downed the glass. The water tasted like heaven itself. “Oh.”

“Do you know what just happened?” The younger asked.

“Yes, my wings… They’re gone? That hurt… I couldn’t see what happened.”

Pity crossed the doctor’s face, but he couldn’t answer.

She turned to Spencer. Anguish painted his face so clearly, but it did not worry her.

“Um… You back, it…” Spencer stammered, unable to finish.

Hotch took over from behind her. “Your back flayed itself, ripping wide open. Your wings pushed themselves inside. You bled a lot. When it was over, the wound healed itself as we watched…”

“That’s what it felt like.” She felt supremely calm. A moment passed where she thought that she should be panicking, but that feeling did not stick.

She scanned the room again. Pity and horror greeted her at every face. “Guys, I’m okay now. It hurt a LOT, but I’m better now. All healed, right? It doesn’t hurt anymore.” She remembered this calm when the wings first came. It took a long time for her to panic about seeing claws behind her. She wasn’t feeling murderous this time, however. That was a good sign, right?

“Are you alright?” the younger doctor asked.

“Yeah, I feel fine actually. Like, I know I could be freaking out, but why?” she replied. She rolled her shoulder, happy to loosen the muscles again. They felt completely better.

“Can I show you something, Ms. Stone?” 

“Sure.” She said, nonchalantly.

He gestured for her to follow him to the mirror. She walked over and looked at herself. Her wounds were more healed than they had been before. Her face was completely better and the abrasion on her neck was much less raw. She touched a hand to it gently. Ah! Still a little sensitive.

The doctor gave her a small hand held mirror. “Look at your back.” He said, very quietly.

She felt a small thread of fear at his tone, but took the mirror. With the bigger mirror at her back, she held the small mirror so the reflection would show her what he wanted her to see.

Her back was a mess of scars. There was a huge tear following the line of her spine, with additional scars across the top of her shoulders and through the center of her back. Where her scapulas met skin, there were two identical scars, knotted and vicious. It looked like that was where her wings had been anchored.

“I see,” she said, composure failing. The sweet calm that had caressed after was leaking out. Seeing those scars broke it, and memories of the pain vibrated along her joints. She gently set the mirror down on the sink, noting that she was shaking again, and sat herself back on the bed.

She turned to the doctors, and asked, “Medically, can you answer this question for me: what the FUCK?”

Both grimaced. The older one said, “I don’t know. Never seen anything like it.”

She felt her starting to panic again, but it switched to exhaustion. It was too much, it was all too much. “I need to sleep.” She mumbled.

“Okay, sweetheart,” a doctor, she couldn’t tell who, said “We’ll let you rest. If you need anything, please push this button and someone will come.”

“Okay, thank you,” she replied. She hadn’t been able to focus on the location of the button, but she didn’t need anything but sleep.

Everyone filed out, with Spencer last. He looked back at her once as he exited the room.

“I’ll be okay.” She yawned, then curled up on the bed and passed out.


	7. Rambling Helps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: blood mention, nightmares, trapped, drug abuse mention, forced drugging mention, rape mention,

She had nightmares of claws and blood. Hands grabbed her in the dark and she couldn’t get away. Her voice was gone. She couldn’t scream. They were going to rip her apart!

She woke with a start, looking at the white walls of the hospital room. One, two, three deep breaths and she sat up. Her wrists, throat, and ribs were still a little sore, but other than that she felt fine. 

Looking at her wrists, she saw that they had not healed more from last night. Not noticeably, anyway.

The night’s sleep had helped her come to terms with a lot, and work somethings out.

First, she had wings now. At least, sometimes. She didn’t know what would cause them to come out again, but something told her it was fear. Had they gone back in because she felt safe? Would she be able to call them at will? Send them back at will? She didn’t have answers for those questions.

Second, she realized that, though the wings hurt, they had some benefits. Obviously, she could fly with them, but they also brought healing and calm. That might make the pain part easier. The pain had truly been immense, though. Calm after effects were one thing, but she could still remember every agonizing second before she passed out. Would she pass out every time? She still hadn’t been able to figure out the price she had paid for the freedom.

Third, the FBI was going to watch her closely now. There was no way they could let someone so potentially dangerous just leave. They were going to have to make sure she was okay, both mentally and for others around her. They were never going to be able to let her go.

She felt a spike of fear, and phantom wings twitched inside and out. The panic rose and she felt a pressing at her shoulder blades. She took some deep breaths to calm herself, and the pressing sensation faded. She would have to be careful with that.

A nurse walked in, reading something off a clipboard. She looked up, and said, “Oh good, you are awake. They will be so pleased.”

“How long was I out?”

“12 and a half hours. You must have been exhausted, huh? You want something to eat?”

Elia’s stomach growled at the mention of food. “Yes please,” she replied, smiling at the nurse. 

“You definitely look like you could use it,” the nurse said. She checked various monitors and left the room.

Instead of the nurse, like she expected, Spencer and Emily Prentiss brought her the food. Elia grinned, feeling lighter. At least her assigned FBI agents were nice.

“Hi Emily Prentiss and Spencer,” she said.

“You can call me ‘Emily,’ Elia,” Emily said, laughing.

Elia blushed, but focused on her food. She was ravenous. She stuffed it into her face, finishing it all in moments.

“Sorry we couldn’t get you anything better than hospital food,” Spencer said.

Elia looked up from her empty plates. “To be honest, I can’t remember the last time I ate. I would probably be happy with gruel.”

She meant it as a joke, but Emily and Spencer looked saddened by it.

“How are you feeling?” Emily asked, breaking the silence.

“Much better. I slept pretty well. I had a nightmare, but I’m okay. Besides, when I panic too much, I can feel… them. They want to come out and protect me.”

“Your wings?” Spencer asked.

“Yeah. I realized that the FBI would probably have to keep eyes on me, and that made me a little afraid. I felt them pressing, so I took some deep breaths. The sensation went away. I have decided to focus on happy things.”

“Sadly, you are right,” Emily said, gently, “The FBI wants to… make sure you are safe.”

Elia caught the double meaning. They wanted to make sure she wasn’t a danger to herself, or others. “How are they planning on doing that?”

“They aren’t sure… They don’t know what to do.” Elia could almost hear the “with you” left off of Emily’s sentence.

“I wouldn’t know what to do either. I mean, I don’t know what to do as me. What does it all mean?” Elia asked.

“We can worry about that later, for now let’s focus on getting you completely better. The blood test came back, and you were indeed drugged. They seemed to be phasing out the drugs for your encounter with the king.” Emily looked away. “We also need a doctor to do a… thorough exam.”

“A rape kit?”

“Not quite… More just to see if… other parts are injured.”

“If it is necessary, I will do it.” Elia conceded. She could handle that. She could do it, especially if it would give her some measure of trust.

“I’ll get a doctor,” Emily said, and she left.

Spencer stood awkwardly for a moment, then sat. He couldn’t meet her gaze, and he couldn’t find a comfortable position to sit.

“Are you alright, Spencer?” Elia asked.

“I, I just worry about you,” he replied.

“Worry about me? Why?”

“Your back flayed itself, and you were held captive by a serial rapist and murderer until you grew wings and killed him?”

“No, I mean why worry about me? I am… I don’t know what I am, but I am not… normal.”

“That doesn’t mean I should worry. No matter what caused you to have wings, you are a person attached to them. I don’t know what is going to happen now…”

He glanced away, looked back and changed the subject. “The wings are cool looking though. I know they hurt, but they are incredible. Like dragon wings. Never seen anything like them.”

“I was thinking the same thing! When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t figure it out. They are anatomically similar to bats wings, but they aren’t my arms. In fact, I don’t know of any animal with wings and arms. And do any reptiles have wings?”

“No reptiles have wings like that. Not that I know of.” He grinned. He seemed really happy to discuss the science behind them. 

Something occurred to her, “Wait, how did the FBI even find me?”

“We were investigating the king.”

“Why? What did he do? I know I wasn’t the first… What did he do to them?”

Spencer licked his lips, thinking on whether or not to tell her. “We don’t know everything. What we gathered is he takes well-endowed, curvy, or bigger women. He s… He starves them until they are stick thin, feeding them only enough to keep them alive. Then he, uh, takes them, as you put it. Once he takes them, they, um, they stop getting food… He… He, uh, disposes of them when they… can’t go without food anymore.”

She was taken back to the platform. She remembered his hungry eyes. She remembered being pushed toward him. Knowing her potential fate scared her, and she was gripped with a need to escape. Her shoulders started to pull apart and she gasped in pain and fear.

“What’s wrong, Elia?” Spencer asked, concern coating his words.

“Ah, fuck. Tell me something calming, Spencer! Talk to me about something, please!”

“Oh, um.” He stammered for a moment before managing to say, “Did you know octopuses are the smartest invertebrates in the world? They have no centralized nervous system, so if an arm is cut off, it will continue to try to feed the head. Octopuses are also extremely malleable and can fit into any space that their beak can fit into. Also, there was an octopus in an aquarium that learned the schedules of the guards. It used this knowledge to sneak out, steal fish from other tanks, and safely return to its own tank. They couldn’t figure out what was happening for a long time. They had to put astroturf inside its tank to prevent it from escaping again.” He stopped, looking to her. “Are you alright?”

She was leaning against the wall behind her. Whether conscious or not, she was pressing her shoulder into the wall, as if that could stop the wings from sprouting. Maybe it had. 

“Yes, thank you, that helped a lot actually. I didn’t know if it would, but you can talk a lot. Very interesting stuff too. I have always thought octopuses were cool.” She carefully opened her eyes and leaned forward. Tension escaped her muscles, and she let out the breath she had been helping. “I probably shouldn’t have asked.”

“You’re welcome,” Spencer said, carefully, “Let’s try to keep it to light topics for now, huh?”

She started to reply, but Emily came back in, female doctor in tow.

“Or not,” she grimaced.


	8. Exam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: rape mention, rape kit like exam.

“Hello, Ms. Stone, I’m Doctor Tulle. I’m here to do the exam. I know this is going to be hard, but I will go slowly and help you through as best I can.”

Elia’s eyes flew to Spencer, then to Emily. “Can I ask a terrible favor?”

Spencer looked worried, but Emily answered, “What is it?”

“Can you stay? Don’t… look, but stay? I don’t want to, uh, explode?” Elia didn’t know if Dr. Tulle knew about the wing potential.

“Both of us?” Spencer asked, incredulous.

“No one can talk like you Spencer. Just tell me a bunch of facts while you stare at the wall or something? Please? Emily, I need another woman in the room too.”

Emily didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Elia, that isn’t a terrible favor at all.”

Spencer did hesitate. “I just don’t want to make you feel… uncomfortable.”

“You won’t be making me feel uncomfortable. Other things will be… But please, don’t stay if you are uncomfortable, Spencer. I don’t want that.”

He looked her in the eyes, “If it will help you, I will stay. But if it is too much, I will leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright, now that that is settled, let’s get started,” Doctor Tulle said.

“Okay,” Elia said. She wanted to close her eyes, but she knew that she would fight if she couldn’t see. She gripped the hand rails of the bed. “Spencer, start talking, please.”

Elia lost everything he said as the doctor started to examine her down there. Dr. Tulle had started at the worst place. She gripped the handrails, and felt a panic building. Spencer’s soothing voice helped hold it at bay, but the fear was becoming more. Her skin crawled with the knowledge that she was covered in blood, she was mostly naked, and she was alone.

Emily took her left hand, and Elia jumped, but held on to her. It actually helped a lot. 

“Thank you, Emily,” Elia whispered.

Spencer looked down at her, and she turned to meet his eyes.

“Would it help if I…?” he asked, unsure of himself.

“Maybe, but I might crush your hand.”

“I have strong hands.” He held out a hand for her, and she released her death grip on the handrails to take it. It helped more than she expected. He continued talking, but she didn’t hear him. She felt stable between these two people. Like they were grounding her, holding her back. They weren’t trapping her, they were protecting her with a safe touch. She relaxed against pillows. She wasn’t alone.

Dr. Tulle tested her as gently and carefully as possible. When she was done, she took off her gloves, and said, “All done! You did really well. Glad your friends were to help.”

Elia nodded. “Can I shower now? And put on a robe, maybe?”

“Of course! I’ll get a nurse in here to help with that right away.”

She let go of Spencer and Emily’s hands, and took a deep breath. “You will have to tell me what you were talking about when I am actually able to listen, okay?”

Spencer laughed, “Okay.”

“Be careful, Elia, he will hold you to that!” Emily said, laughing as well.

Elia didn’t quite understand why that was funny. She was genuinely interested.

A nurse came, and introduced herself as Margret. She shooed Spencer and Emily out of the room so Elia could get ready for a shower.

“Since you are pretty blood covered, I will give you the towel when you are clean. I’ll make sure someone changes the sheets on that bed, and we will find you a hospital gown, too. Alright, sweetie?” Margret said.

“That sounds great, thank you.”

Elia walked through the hospital, suddenly aware of how she looked again. Luckily, they didn’t pass many people on their way to the showers.

The shower was a curtained off area in a bathroom, but the bathroom itself locked, which she was grateful for.

“I’ll be right outside, turned around. Just tell me when you are ready for the towel, okay?” Margret said.

“Yes, thank you.”

Elia pulled the curtain around her, and took off her panties and bra. She was glad to be free of them. They were so visibly gross that she shuddered. She turned the water to hot, but turned it back to warm remembering that Margret would get steamed otherwise. 

Blood flowed off her skin, tinging the water pink beneath her feet. Individually wrapped washcloths sat in a tray on the wall, and she took one, peeling it open. Next to washcloths were individual bottles of soap, shampoo, and conditioner. She cleaned herself very thoroughly, soaping and rinsing many times, until there was no soap left. She shampooed her knotted hair, pulling the lost hair band from somewhere in the rat’s next. The entire bottle of conditioner went into her hair, and she let it sit for a long time, hoping to loosen knots. She did as much as she could to them in the water, then washed the conditioner out.

This was as clean as she could get here, so she turned off the water and put a hand out for the towel. Margret gently placed it in her hand. Elia dried herself as best she could, happy to see her skin clean again.

“Can I have a robe now, please?” She stuck her hand out again, and a robe was there.

Covering her body felt wonderful. The robe hung off her a little, but it went past her knees and had a high collar. This shapeless garment was exactly what she needed.

She pulled the curtain aside, and stepped out.

“Wow, you look much better! Glad to see a face under all the blood,” Margret commented.

“Me too,” Elia replied. “Hey, do you know where a hair brush might be hiding?”


	9. Placement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: CPTSD, divorce, emotional abuse, psychiatric medication,

Spencer sat in the waiting room, speed reading a book on linguistics. Emily was pacing, back and forth across the floor, but he didn’t let it distract him from rapidly absorbing the information on the pages. Morgan was lounging, reading a magazine. If you didn’t know him, you would think he was relaxed. Spencer knew him really well.

Hotch had gone out to meet the rest of the team as they got to the hospital. Since she had passed out before they arrived, he gave them the option of resting at home before heading over. He had made the offer to each of the agents in the waiting room, but they had elected to stay. Spencer stayed because he couldn’t leave her in here alone. Her tragedies had really touched him. And, despite all her very obvious fears, he seemed to calm her. They would need that.

He thought back to finding her in the warehouse. She had been standing in the center of the room, covered in blood and wounds. His first thought was they had finally met the demon that people thought they were summoning in ritual murders. Her huge wings had framed her, claws flexing in and out, seemingly without her knowledge. He estimated her wingspan was at least 20 feet from tip to tip. He had wondered if she could even fly with them. They must have been bulky, and people themselves are too heavy to fly.

He didn’t think that she was a demon now. He didn’t know what she was, what had happened, or why, but he worried about her. Everything about her screamed unlucky participant. He was a little scared of her still, but more scared for her. Watching her back rip itself apart had cemented that, and her hands crushing his in fear had made him almost weep for her.

Now, they needed to figure out what to do with her. His brain spun wildly, trying to come up with a reasonable solution. It would be so much easier if she were a feral beast, unable to speak, only able to attack. They would have just used the Bureau to lock her away, study her, and see what they could learn. But that idea made him nauseated now. Even if she were feral, who deserved that?

Hotch came in with Rossi, JJ, and Garcia. They had no idea what they were walking into. Hotch had tried to brief them, but how do you explain something like that?

“Alright, let’s get started. We need to figure this out sooner than later,” Hotch said, as he sat down, “Reid, you took pictures of her wings with your phone, right?”

He had, in the ambulance. He had been lost in thought, but he realized he needed evidence of them in case they vanished. He knew she had gotten them that day. How long would they last?

He had seen her shoulders shaking with sobs in the ambulance when he took the photos. Her wings had tightened themselves around her. He had noticed that they were protective as well as functional, but he didn’t know how strong they were. She didn’t seem to have control over them at the time, but he had noticed more conscious movement on her part. She was a lot less scared of them than he would have been.

“Yeah, here,” Spencer said, pulling out his phone, “They appear to be reptilian, but they are like nothing I have ever seen in nature. I accidently brushed them at one point, and they were warm, which confuses me even more. Maybe they are just reptilian looking, because of the scaling. They might be mammalian because they are a part of her. There is no way to know without…” Spencer trailed off. He wasn’t going to hurt her to study those wings.

Rossi, JJ, and Garcia looked at the photos. Morgan, Prentiss, and Hotch joined them, to refresh their memories. Spencer could still see those wings in his mind’s eye. 

“That sure is something,” Rossi mused.

“They look like dragon wings! Like from a videogame. Oh man, except for the color, they look a lot like the Archdemon’s wings from Dragon Age. Does that mean anything?” Garcia pulled up a picture on her phone and passed it around.

“They do look sort of like that, but sleeker and less damaged. I wonder if the blueprint was pulled from her memory or subconscious or something, or maybe it is a coincidence.” Spencer studied the picture closer, comparing it to the mental image of her wings.

“I don’t think it matters why they look like they do,” Morgan said, blunt as always, “We got a girl here with clawed appendages who killed people with retractable hand claws. We can do the science later.”

“Actually, they aren’t retractable in a traditional sense,” Spencer clarified, “Retractable fangs or claws on most animals involves them being stored in a cavity just beneath the skin. From what little studying I did of her hands, there is no evidence of claws in them.” He thought of her death grip during the exam. He had felt nothing but the normal finger bones.

“Whatever, kid. They disappeared, they vanished, they retracted, who cares? She had claws. Her wings had claws. The girl seems nice enough, but she is clearly dangerous. She can’t control it.” Morgan had taken over pacing from Emily, and she was content to stand by the chairs.

“She’s learning to,” Spencer said quietly. He knew this wasn’t going to go well for her, but he had to try. He could still see the panic in her eyes when he had confirmed the FBI would need to keep a close watch over her.

“Kid, I know you have sympathy for her. I feel bad for her too, but we don’t know what she can do,” Morgan said, voice softer.

Emily spoke up, “She doesn’t seem dangerous, at least not anymore. She seems to be saddled with this as much as we are.”

“What can she do though? Obviously the… things hurt her. But that much blood loss… I mean you saw it Reid, she should have died. How could she survive that?” Morgan’s eyes furrowed.

“It is fascinating, you’re right. Even if the blood loss by itself hadn’t killed her, the shock could. Having your back flayed and tortured is enough to shock the heart.” His eyes became unfocused as he thought about it, mentally reviewing the events of the night before. “Guys, remember how calm she was after? Like scarily so? Maybe that’s why? Something in her body forces the process so she can survive the trauma without dying, as part of the healing process.”

“Is that possible?” JJ asked.

“Actually, it is. When severely traumatized, the body tries to compensate, but can’t through normal means. Shock is treated through fluids and oxygen, as well as trying to treat secondary symptoms like lowered internal body temperature. Theoretically, if the body were to suddenly start to produce more albumin, platelets, and blood, one could survive. The rapid healing after could be a dump of chemicals that stimulate tissue growth and repair all over the body. There could even be a dump of dopamine, but the process still seems to hurt her. The-”

“Reid!” Morgan interjects, “I understand this is all fascinating for you, but we have to deal with the problem at hand first. We can talk about how cool her body is later.”

Spencer blushed, not missing the double entendre. “Fine, what do you think we should do.” He decided not to mention her “deal.” If they thought she was a demon, it wouldn’t help her at all.

“Government facilities. We gotta lock her away. Make sure she doesn’t start using those wings to kill. And claws, apparently.”

Spencer’s face drained immediately. “No, we can’t do that to her. We can’t lock her away. This isn’t her fault! She is innocent.”

Rossi put a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Reid, I know this is difficult, but she isn’t innocent. She killed three men. I do not mourn their deaths, but she killed them. We can’t ignore that.”

“I agree with Reid,” Hotch said, “Locking her away won’t help. It is the best way for her to become bitter and angry. When, not if, when she managed to escape from wherever we put her, she would wreak havoc. We have to try and support her, help her manage.”

“Fine,” Morgan said, “Let’s have her work for our side. Just rile her up and drop her in a warzone. She could help us win wars. She could be an asset to the country that way.”

“No, no,” Hotch said, “We don’t want to encourage her blood lust. Emily, can you tell us what happened right before her appendages receded? Something must have triggered it. I have a feeling if she could have done that earlier, she would have.”

“I’m not exactly sure. She was doing a cognitive interview, so we could figure out what happened to cause her to have wings. She told us she was overwhelmed with fear and begged for freedom. Then the wings came. In the hospital… Reid told her that she was safe, that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. He told her we didn’t blame her for the dead men, and that he would protect her from the Bureau.”

“Well it’s pretty clear that fear is a trigger,” Rossi commented.

“Yeah, yeah! When we checked on her this morning, she said that she had gotten scared. She said she felt them trying to get out, but she calmed herself, and it stopped. She said, ‘they want to protect me,’” Emily said

Reid stood, “She started to panic again when you went to get the doctor, Emily. She asked what the king did to people… I, I told her. I didn’t think what it would do…”

“But there were no wings?” Morgan asked.

“No… No, she asked me to distract her. So, I told her some facts about octopuses. She pressed herself against the wall and tried to relax, hold them in. The wings never came…”

“Garcia?” Hotch looked at her.

“Yes, sir?” Garcia replied. She looked a little shook up, but she was always ready.

“Can you look into her personal and medical history? I bet there is something there.”

“Um, of course, sir. I wish we could ask her first…” She pulled out a laptop from her bag; she never left home without it.

“Alright,” she started, fingers clacking away, “Elia Stone’s parents are both alive. Parents have divorced. They have both remarried. Mom is on her third husband, actually. Dad has been with his second wife since she was 4.”

“Divorce can be stressful,” Hotch said, “What about her medical?”

“Um, oh. Wow. She started an outpatient rehab program at 15, went to inpatient rehab at 16. She was diagnosed with CPTSD when she was 19. She moved out of her mom’s house shortly after her diagnosis, and worked her way through school. She is on no medication, but she writes a $330 check to a Mary Johnston once a month. Mary is a licensed therapist who specializes in anxiety, panic, and EMDR.”

“CPTSD?” Spencer asked, leaning over Garcia’s shoulder. “Is there evidence of her parents abusing her?” He briefly thought of her in the ambulance, refusing pain medication. Good for her.

“No, none,” Garcia says, “but her social media is bare and controlled. She posts maybe twice a month. Nothing too personal. Stuff like, “I got a job.” Also some political posts, she is very liberal, but nothing about her home life and family.”

Spencer read some of Elia’s facebook posts, and saw what Garcia was talking about. “This is very atypical of someone her age. Maybe she has secondary social media platforms?”

“Alright, I’m casting a net using her email… Ah, she has a tumblr! Most of the posts are not personal, buuut… Some talk about struggling with mental health problems. There is a set of tags called ‘personal…’ Oh, yes. She talks about emotional abuse there… Oh my poor dear.”

“What’s interesting is her tumblr is still relatively controlled. It isn’t easy to find, and there is no mention of her name, nor any person information. You know, that is actually consistent with many anxiety-based disorders. She might feel that no one wants to hear it, that someone will use it against her, or both…” Spencer mused.

“You are right, boy genius. There is only one mention of emotional abuse, and it is pretty well hidden. She reblogged a post about living with emotionally abusive parents who switch between giving and taking. The only indication she leaves are in the tags. ‘#ugh #me #this is too real,’” Garcia added.

“So, we have a woman who’s already been dealing with an anxiety disorder for an unknown number of years who know has the ability to call protective appendages when she is scared?” Morgan looked concerned.

“Think of it this way, Morgan,” Spencer said, pulling away from Garcia, “living through a traumatic event like this could give someone PTSD. If Elia has been dealing with the disorder for years, she already has coping mechanisms in place. She is controlling her online outbursts and seeing a therapist. She is a good candidate for this kind of special situation.”

“Garcia, has she been on medication for her mental health problems?” Emily asked.

“Um, looking… None currently. She has tried three, but stopped all of them. Oof, one seems to have caused her to have panic attacks. Another is marked as an allergen for her, seems she gets hives. Her last attempt at medication seems to be… more than three years ago.”

Spencer put his fingers to his lips, thinking. “Medications can be helpful for many people, but if she kept having adverse reactions, she probably gave up. She had to focus her attentions on coping tools and self-care. It isn’t a perfect science, but if she has gone this long, she probably has something figured out…”

“So?” Morgan interjected, “I am glad she is coping, but how does that help us here? She could still be a danger.”

“Yes, but less so. If she has already been coping, she will know what to do with herself more than anyone else could teach her quickly. When she panicked about the news Reid gave her, it sounds like she pulled out coping mechanisms immediately. Distraction and deep breathing are the first things we would tell someone to do in the middle of a panic attack,” Hotch said. Spencer hadn’t expected Hotch to be on his side.

“But what can we do with her?” Rossi asked, smoothing his goatee, “Coping skills are one thing, but she can’t be left alone. Someone has to watch over her.”

The team all looked at Spencer. He shook his head, backing away. “No, no, no, no. I can’t. I’m a man, and that seems to be a trigger for her. If anyone, it should be Prentiss.” He looked to Emily with pleading eyes. “You’re a woman, and, and she trusts you.”

“Not as much as she trusts you,” Emily replied, shaking her head back at him, “Besides, I’m not the one she asked to talk through the exam. Your information dumping seems to help distract her. She asked you to stay with her in the ambulance. And she seems to jump at any unseen touch, not just males.”

He thought back to the ambulance. “You are the only one who promised not to hurt me… No one else said they wouldn’t when you said ‘we.’” Oh no.

He looked up at all of them, and conceded. “She told me I was the only one who promised her safety…”

“That’s it!” Emily exclaimed. “Spencer, you do make her feel safe! Your protective promises put the wings back! She said, ‘They wanted to protect me.’ They are conceding to you for now. Having her wings out became scarier than the protection she felt from you!”

Morgan grinned, “I knew pretty boy had some magic in him.”

“My god, Morgan. It isn’t like that at all. It is simple transference. I was the one who helped her away from the crime scene to safety. She is a victim. Get your head out of the gutter!” Spencer said.

“Aw, look, he is protective of her,” Emily teased, “This might actually work.”

“How?” Spencer shouted. “What is she going to move into my apartment so I can keep an eye on her?”

They all looked at each other, shrugging.

“Oh, come on! I was kidding!”

“You’re the one who said it, kid,” Morgan said.

“Hotch, come on! This is completely against regulation, or something. I can’t more her into my apartment!” Spencer looked at Hotch wildly.

“If you are uncomfortable with the idea, we will find another solution. For now, it is the only thing I can think of. She trusts you, and you have already kept her calm twice. I know it is against regulation, but her existence isn’t something anyone was prepared for. I am thinking on my feet. I know you will be professional and will keep the Bureau’s best interests at heart.” Hotch’s voice quieted. “I also know you will keep her interests at heart too. She needs to be kept safe and calm and I believe you are capable of that.”

Spencer opened and closed his mouth a few times. He paced. He sat down, rubbing his temples. He stood and paced again. “I honestly can’t think of anything better. I just don’t know how she will take it.”

“We will make it an option for her. Leaving out the other, more terrible options so it isn’t coercive,” Hotch said, “It is probably better than anything she was expecting from us anyway.”

“Don’t worry, Reid. We won’t leave you to do this alone.” Emily put a hand on his shoulder.

Spencer sighed. He would be fine having her in his apartment, the company might even be nice, but it also felt weird.

"We should go talk to her,” Hotch said, making his way towards her room.

The rest of the agents followed, with Spencer lagging at the back.


	10. Her Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: blood mention, capture

The team found Elia in her room working through the last knots in her hair. It was longer than any of them had expected, almost touching the bed as she sat. She looked much better now that she wasn’t covered in blood and grime.

“Hello, all,” she said, looking up from the knots for a moment. There were three new faces now, but Spencer, Emily, Hotch, and Morgan were all there.

“Hello Elia, good morning.” Hotch said, “The rest of our team arrived last night, but we thought we would let you rest. This is SSA David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, and Penelope Garcia, our technical analyst.” 

“Nice to meet you,” she said. She figured Penelope Garcia was the “Garcia” that Spencer had called in the ambulance.

She went back to detangling her hair, but did it all by touch, unwilling to look away from the large group of agents in front of her.

Jennifer Jareau spoke first, breaking what was becoming an uncomfortable silence. “Hello, Elia. You can call me JJ, alright? Thank you so much for all cooperation and assistance. You have done so well.”

Elia decided she liked JJ. “Thank you, JJ. I appreciate it.” She managed a real smile for her. It was easier now that she was clean and more covered.

Hotch looked at her with serious eyes. She was a little unnerved, but held his gaze. He clearly wanted to say something important to her.

“As you probably guessed, we have been trying to figure out what to do about your unique situation.”

She nodded, running the brush through the last of the knots in her hair.

“We want to give you this option first. The Bureau needs to keep an eye on you. It would be hard to do that with you in your apartment without constant surveillance.”

She took a deep breath, and began French-braiding her hair, up and out of the way. A quick glance to Spencer found his eyes downcast. She didn’t know where this was going. She focused on the braiding instead, trying not to dwell on what Hotch’s words could mean for her. Her eyes found their way to Hotch again, half focused.

“We think it might be best for you to, uh, move. Spencer has a spare bedroom in his apartment. We can keep tabs on you without constant video surveillance, and you will have at least one agent nearby to assist you, if need be.”

Her fingers paused, deep in her hair. “What?”

“Would you be amenable to this?”

“What?” She asked again. She looked to Spencer again. He looked sheepish, but his eyes were still glued to the ground.

“Is this not something you are okay with?” Hotch asked.

“No, no, it’s not that…” She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. “That just isn’t something I thought was on the table,” she said, carefully.

“We would need to do periodic check-ins, of course. Each of the team would assess you, and I would have monthly triage appointments with you. You would be free, after some time, to continue your life with some degree of normality.”

“Why Spencer’s apartment…?” she asked. Her back found the wall, and she realized she had started scooting back.

Emily piped up, trying to smooth things over, “Spencer didn’t offer or suggest it, Elia. It just seems like you trust him, and he seems to be effective in, uh, keeping you calm.”

“Oh,” Elia murmured. She found herself running her fingers through the loose ends of her hair. When she caught the nervous gesture, she continued braiding. The nurse had found her a rubber band from the supply closet, and she used it to tie the end of the braid off. She realized there was silence as she did this, but she didn’t know what to say.

“If you are uncomfortable with this, there are other options, we just thought this would be the best one,” Hotch said, gently.

“Can I talk to Spencer alone, please?” she asked, quietly.

“Um, yes, of course,” Hotch replied. He turned to leave the room, and most of the agents followed. Morgan narrowed his eyes at her, and didn’t move.

“What do you need to talk to him about?” Morgan did not look happy about leaving Spencer with her.

Spencer stepped in, saying, “It’s okay, Morgan.”

Morgan gave her a warning look, but turned and left the room.

She waited a few moments, to be sure everyone was gone, and then she said, “Why your apartment? What do you want me so close to you for, doctor?”

“I swear to you, I didn’t plan this. I didn’t suggest it at all. They wanted to put you under constant surveillance or worse. We didn’t want that for you…” A pained look spread across his face, and she felt that he was leaving something out. “Someone had to watch out for you, though. And… Well, they saw our interactions. They thought I would be the best, to keep you calm. I swear, I promise you, I didn’t do it on purpose. I said no, at first. I knew it wouldn’t be taken well…”

Elia pursed her lips. “Let me think about it for a moment?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Spencer slid out of the room. She heard pieces of an unintelligible conversations outside the door, but she ignored it.

A military compound came to her mind. Huge walls, barbed wire, barking dogs, and cuffs. She saw herself chained somewhere, experiments done on her, her wings. Her back shifted slightly, but she quieted it with a thought.

She looked down to her hands, innocent looking. If his intentions were unsavory, she could defend herself now. But he didn’t seem to have those intentions. She had gotten so good at reading men’s intentions, but was she wrong? 

Morgan, for example, exuded sex. He didn’t read like a man who would take, but he definitely had desires. Spencer… He had desires, somewhere, but he also had fears. She focused on him, trying to imagine his energy. It was less sexually charged than most, and that made him calming to her. He seemed so worried about her too. When the doctor was there, his first thought was not making her uncomfortable.

But living with someone… That would be something else. If she was in a spare bedroom, that would probably work. A door to close for private times, a barrier.

She saw a warehouse now, like the one she had been locked in, but worse. If the government swept her under the rug, no one would ever find her. They were giving her an out, a freedom. It seemed like they wanted to treat her like a person, rather than a monster. Spencer seemed nice… Much better than being strapped down or locked up, and they were right, he had stopped her wings twice.

She slid off the bed and padded over to the door of her room. She found her arms wrapped around herself, but left them there. She missed the wings for that reason: with them wrapped around her, she felt safe. She found the agents loosely clustered outside her door, and she stopped in front of them.

“Alright, I’ll do it.”


	11. The First Car Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drug mention, drug abuse mention

Elia spent one last day in the hospital. The wounds that remained were healing at a normal rate, but they weren’t life threatening. The exam with Dr. Tulle hadn’t found anything new, so they let her go. Part of her thought the doctors and nurses wanted her out of there before her wings made a surprise appearance.

Hotch explained more of the plan to her while she was still in the hospital. “You will live in Reid’s spare bedroom. You will have a cell phone, and if anything happens, you can call him. If he goes away for a case, you will stay with Garcia, since she usually stays behind. Are you okay with this?”

She wanted to ask why she shouldn’t just stay with Garcia all the time, but she didn’t bother. Garcia was wonderful, bubbly, and so kind, but she hadn’t yet calmed her down. Elia guessed they didn’t want to take more chances than they had to. She was just glad she wouldn’t interfere with his work for too long. She didn’t know how he felt about all this, and she was afraid to ask.

“Yes, I am okay with this. Garcia seems nice.” She smiled at Hotch, trying to show him that she was, indeed, alright.

“Good. We are going to do a test run of you and Reid alone. He will drive you to your current address and help you pack some things to take to his place. If it all goes well, you will both go to his house. Tonight will be another test run. If at any point you feel it isn’t working, for whatever reason, tell me, and we will figure something else out, alright?”

“Alright,” she said. She was a little nervous, but also thankful. Hotch had seemed so stern and scary when she first met him, but he was making a genuine effort to make her feel safe. The more he did that, the better she felt about the whole thing.

Everyone was there when she checked out of the hospital. She was wearing a t-shirt and sweats that Emily had let her borrow. Her clothing options would be relatively limited until she got to her house. They all stood around her, trying to be reassuring. Garcia offered her a hug, and Elia took it, gratefully. It was an amazing hug, and she felt like everything would be okay. After Garcia, JJ offered her a hug too, and she accepted, smiling. Why did these people care about her so much already?

Spencer shuffled around awkwardly. He looked more worried than she felt. Was he scared of her?

“Alright, time to go,” Hotch said, “I’ll be checking in with you tomorrow, Elia, to make sure you are doing alright.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

The team headed out of the hospital, but Morgan and Spencer lagged behind, both waiting for her.

“Elia, I wish you all the best, but if you hurt this kid,” Morgan said, clapping his hands on Spencer’s back, “I will have to do something.”

Elia nodded silently.

Spencer looked embarrassed, and they walked out to the parking lot. Morgan left them at Spencer’s car, giving her one last warning look before slipping away.

“He’s really protective of you,” Elia said, nervously.

“Yeah, they all are,” Spencer replied, unlocking the car, “Alright, hop on in. We have to get to your place and get packing.”

She climbed into his car. The seats felt luxurious after her last two weeks, and she sank into them gratefully. Spencer had a death grip on the steering wheel. Maybe this was bad for him too? Again, she wondered if he was afraid of her.

Instead of asking him that, she decided to distract him, “So, uh, what made you join the FBI?”

Spencer looked at her quickly, then back to the road. “They groomed me for it. They saw me as a great asset and wanted me on their team. I always saw myself in the BAU, so I aimed for it. Now here I am.”

“The BAU?” she asked.

“Oh, right, we never told you that. Um, the BAU is the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We specialize in profiling the behavior of serial killers.”

“I have heard of that. I always thought it was interesting stuff,” she paused. “I have kind of thought of myself as a profiler before. You definitely need to be able to read people in my past line of work. I know there is more to it than that, but…” She trailed off.

“Your past line of work?”

She ignored the question. “So, you are a doctor, huh? Not medical, I assume.”

He let the question slide. “I have extensively studied human anatomy, but no, I am not a medical doctor. I have three doctorate degrees, in Math, Chemistry, and Engineering.”

She looked him over, studying him carefully. “You are so young, though.”

He shrugged. She felt like he had heard that a lot.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t assume. People say that to me all the time, too.”

“That you are so young? Why?”

Again, she didn’t answer. She didn’t know how much of her history he already knew.

He sighed. “Elia, I know this is difficult, but we have to be able to talk. Communication is important in situations like this.”

“I know,” she replied, still not answering his questions.

“Elia, we… At the hospital, we had to know, we had to know if you could be safe in a lax situation like this. We- Hotch requisitioned your medical history.”

Oh. She remained silent. What more could he need to know?

“We don’t like digging into people’s personal lives, but we felt it was important, given the circumstances.” He looked over to her, trying to gauge her silence.

“I figured you would have to do something like that,” she said, quietly. How much was on her medical record? How deep had they gone?

“I am proud of you refusing pain medication. That must have been difficult,” Spencer murmured, “I am also in recovery.”

That made her feel better. “Oh, yeah. Downers weren’t ever my drug of choice, but just in case, you know. Congrats on getting clean. It can be really difficult.”

Spencer smiled and relaxed. She guessed that communicating would make things easier, so she decided to let a little more go. “People say, ‘but you are so young!’ with regards to my… history. My life has not been… easy. I am not really bitter about it, now, but people say that out of pity a lot. I bet they say it you out of shock and disbelief. I don’t think you are lying, I am just surprised.”

“I have seen enough to know there is no such thing as ‘too young’ when it comes to tragedy. Terrible things happen to people of all ages.”

They arrived at her apartment, and he stopped the car, looking at her. “If you want to talk about it, I am here. I have been told I am a good listener, and I am not judgmental.”

She laughed. “I’m sure you are a good listener, Dr. Spencer Reid. I mean you never talk. I’ll keep it in mind though.

He looked pleased with her teasing, rather than mad, and got out of the car.


	12. Elia's Apartment

She could feel him profiling her room. The room was full of books, a little messy, and overflowing with things. It was a small room, and the walls were bare. She never bothered to decorate. She moved so much as a kid, that at some point decorating became a hassle. He said nothing though.

“Can you, uh, step outside for a moment? I want to put on my own clothes.”

Spencer looked embarrassed. “Of course, just let me know when you are ready.” He stepped outside her room into the hall and gently closed the door behind him.

She immediately flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. She said a mental goodbye to her space and normal life. It felt so weird to be there after all that had happened. The two weeks felt like years, and she hadn’t thought she would ever be able to come back. Today marked the first day of packing, with more to come down the road. She allowed herself a moment to mourn and say goodbye.

With that out of the way, she took off her borrowed clothes. This place had become a home to her, but she didn’t get attached to places. The longest she had lived in one room was a few years. Long to some, nothing to others. With her parents divorced, she had gone back and forth so much, that her definition of home had become looser. Anything could be a home now. Spencer’s apartment would become home, at some point. Hopefully.

All her clothes were far too big for her, and many were too revealing. The low-cut shirts fell clear into her bust line, revealing her bra. How much weight had she been made to lose?

She eventually settled on a black, floor-length skirt with a drawstring, a sports bra that had been too small, and slightly dressy red t-shirt. She had never been this skinny in her life, so she had no back-ups. The shirt hung off her, and she had to knot her underwear to hold it in place.

Once dressed, she opened the door, so Spencer could watch her pack, if he chose to. She pulled out all her t-shirts, figuring they would work no matter her size. She also grabbed everything she could find with a drawstring, pants, sweats, skirts, shorts. For undergarments, she grabbed everything, figuring she would just have to suffer for a while. Hopefully food would be a consistent part of their plans. 

Luckily for her, her feet hadn’t shrunk too much, and most of her socks fit, so she threw in a dozen pairs.

Spencer stood half in the door, but looked away. She hadn’t even needed to warn him about going in her underwear drawer.

When her suitcase was filled with everything she thought would work for now, she zipped it. She didn’t know what entertainment would look like at his place, so she grabbed a backpack and filled it with her kindle, various books, a crafting project, and her laptop. She didn’t know whether or not internet would be allowed, but she could always write or listen to music. She also slid a pair of flip flops in the backpack, and slid on a pair of sneakers.

As she finished packing, one of her housemates came home from work. Juliet made a small gasp of surprise when she saw the 6’1 man standing in Elia’s door.

“Lia?” Juliet called, hesitantly.

“Hey Juliet, I’m in here,” Elia replied, zipping the last of her suitcases.

“Lia, why is there a man with a gun in our apartment?” She asked, fear pitching her voice up.

Oh right, the gun. Elia gently pushed past Spencer, brushing his torso with her arm. She ignored the touch, but she could feel him tense up. “Sorry I didn’t tell you Juliet. Um, something has come up. I’m to be put under witness protection for the time being.” She said exactly what Hotch had told her to say. Vague enough that she didn’t need to lie excessively, but specific enough to answer most questions.

“Witness protection, oh my god! Are you okay?” Juliet’s eyes widened in shock, and she scanned Elia up and down.

Elia remembered the abrasive wounds on her neck and wrists, all clearly visible in the t-shirt. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. The FBI has put me under protective custody.” That part wasn’t a lie.

“I’m so sorry, Lia! I came back and you were gone. I called the police, but you had already been reported missing by your work! What happened?!” Juliet looked frantic. Her cat winded around her legs.

Spencer put on his most serious sounding FBI voice, and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. We cannot share that information at this time. Rest assured, Ms. Stone will be taken care of.”

Juliet looked to Elia, and pleaded, “Tell me, please. You’re hurt, and you were gone for weeks. Can’t you tell me anything?”

Elia smoothed her expression as best she could. She liked Juliet, but she had only met her recently. It made it easier to lie. “All I can tell you is that I am alright, and I am safe now.”

“The equivalent of two month’s rent will be given to you to accommodate finding a new housemate. The rest of Ms. Stone’s things will be cleared by month end,” Spencer said, ignoring Juliet’s frantic questions.

Juliet looked back and forth helplessly, before conceding. “Alright, I will figure it out, and I will tell Rosalina.” 

“I’m sorry for this. Thanks for everything.” Elia slung her backpack on her back, and grabbed her suitcase. She headed to the front door as Spencer turned off the light and closed the door to Elia’s room.

Juliet stood just outside Elia’s door, her cat still trying to comfort her, as they left


	13. Coming to Terms with a New Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: sexual assault mention

“You alright?” Spencer asked, as the car doors shut.

“Yeah, I am… I like them both, but they both moved in within the last two months. And what would happen if I was there with them? I don’t think the walls are so thin that my wings would break through, but I don’t know how I would explain them either.” Elia faced forward stiffly. She wasn’t lying, but something about her life changing was real now, with her things in the back of an FBI agent’s car.

They drove in silence for a few miles. She realized she had no idea where she was going. She lived in Sweet Briar, Virginia, but she had no idea where Spencer lived. She could ask him, but how would that help? She suddenly felt very helpless, and a little trapped. Her back ached, and she clamped down on the panic. Wings was definitely not going to help.

Spencer seemed to notice her nerves. “So, uh, how long had you lived there?”

Harmless question, she could handle that. “Three years. I moved in with two friends from college. One moved out two years ago, and one moved out a month ago. We moved in right after school.”

“What school did you go to?”

“Sweet Briar.”

“Oh, women’s college?”

“Gave me a break from being surrounded by men.”

Spencer stopped talking, instead fingering the steering wheel.

“Sorry Spencer, I didn’t mean it like that… I don’t mind being around you. It was just a good choice at the time.”

“It’s okay,” he said, quietly, “I understand. In my line of work, I see the terrible things that men do every day. I’m sorry you had to... go through that.”

“Me too.”

After several minutes of silence, she decided to speak. She liked Spencer, and this wasn’t his fault. She didn’t want it to be too awkward. “So, how am I going to pay for rent and food? I don’t want my presence to be too much of a burden.”

“The Bureau is going to help while we figure it all out. Don’t worry, you aren’t a burden,” he said.

“You said yourself you didn’t want me in your apartment. You told me that you said no, at first. They must have convinced you somehow…”

He voice was sympathetic when he replied. “I said no for you. I know some amount of your history, and I was worried… I have no problems with you in my apartment. Honestly, the more I think about it, the better it sounds. It is better than the first ideas they were throwing around, and it might be nice to have company.”

She didn’t ask what the other ideas were. She didn’t want to know. “I think living with you could be nice too. I didn’t expect to get an option that wasn’t…” She didn’t finish her thought, and he let it lie.

“I promised I would keep you safe, and I meant it.”

“Thank you.” She leaned into the car seat fully, realizing she had been holding herself up. Her eyes closed, and she relaxed a little. Some part of her expected Spencer to grab her, but he never did. The rest of her had known he wouldn’t.


	14. Answers in Spencer's Apartment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: death mention, panic.

Spencer’s apartment was huge. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered almost every wall, and every single one of them was filled with volumes of various sizes. The walls were a dark, earthy green, and there were two huge windows with pale curtains drawn over them. It had an old soul feel to it, like he had plucked his décor from an 19th century poet and sprinkled in some modern appliances. It felt a lot homier than her place had.

He led her to the spare bedroom, also filled with books. She wondered if he had gotten a two bedroom simply for space. She kind of expected there to be nothing but books in there, but there was a simple twin sized bed and a dark wood dresser.

“I made this room up in case my mom could ever live here,” Spencer explained, before she could ask.

“Where is your mom…?” Elia asked, hesitantly.

He paused, staring out at the empty room. “She is in a mental health hospital in Las Vegas. She has schizophrenia.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Spencer.” She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped a little, and she dropped her hand immediately. She backed away from him, afraid of what that jump could mean.

He turned. “I didn’t expect that you would be willing or able to touch me.” He said it almost like a question.

“I’m afraid of the unseen, Spencer. Besides, I am not having a panic attack right now.”

He met her gaze with heavy eyes. She could not read them at all.

“I’ll leave you to unpack. If you need anything, feel free to take it,” he said, before exiting the room.

She spent very little time unpacking. She didn’t have much. The dresser wasn’t even half full with her clothes. She left the books she had brought in a neat stack on top of the dark wood.

She wasn’t sure what to do with herself now. This place wasn’t hers. Could she wander around? Where was Spencer? She didn’t even know which door led to his room. Or the bathroom.

She settled for lying down. She wasn’t tired, but lying down seemed like a good idea anyway. The bed was wonderfully comfortable, like a cloud. Her eyes traced the irregularities of the ceiling and she relaxed.

Her mind went blank, and she allowed herself to mentally rest. There was no need to think about the way her life was going. There was no need to think about being a potential monster. She just needed to relax.

A voice spoke to her from nowhere, “Do you like the gift I have given you?”

She sat up, looking around wildly.

“You cannot see me, child. I am everywhere.”

“Are you God? Are you… Are you the Devil?” she whispered, so quietly she could barely hear her own voice.

“No, no,” the voice chided, “I am one who can grant wishes. Your wish was so well put, I couldn’t resist.”

“I didn’t wish…”

“Ah, but you did. You didn’t say “I wish” but that is not what I need.”

She wrapped her arms around herself. Her shoulders remained unmoving, despite the very present fear. Was this wish granter preventing her from using them? “Who are you?”

“In your terms, I am Death. You were close to it, and you paid me three souls with your gift. Three souls for one is a good trade.”

“Death? Like the Grim Reaper? How can you give me demonic wings? And claws?”

“I gave you a pair of wings. They are yours. You made them as you needed them. Nice work, threatening and effective. The claws were a one-time thing. You needed to get out of there alive.”

“I made them?” She paused. “Have you granted other wishes?” She was a little relieved that the claws were a one-time thing; they were terrifying, and only good for hurting.

“I have from time to time. Not everyone is willing to pay any price.”

“Wait, was the price I paid those men’s lives?”

She heard Death chuckle. It sounded like a thousand last breaths brushing against earth.

“No, Elia. That was not the price. It was an added bonus. To give life to those wings, you can no longer give life to anything else.”

“What does that mean?”

“All in time.”

“Wait, am I destined to kill everything I touch?”

“No, nothing like that. You just can’t give new life.”

She frowned. “I never had the ability to give life.”

“Yes, you did.”

She felt the room become empty, and knew Death was gone. Her back started to ache, and she stood, pacing. What had he meant? How could she give life? She suddenly didn’t want to be alone. Spencer might be able to help her figure it out. She felt like the answer was staring her in the face, but Death speaking to her had left her jangled.

She opened the door to her room and wandered out. It was dark, and she still didn’t know where anything was. She felt like Death was on her tail, and fear gripped her harder.

“Spencer?” she whispered into the empty living room. He couldn’t hear her. Panic was rising. What had she done? Her back started to stretch, and she wanted to run. She wanted to fly away and never look back. What had she done?

“Spencer?” she called, louder. Fear was clear in her voice, and he was next to her in a moment. She hadn’t seen where he had come from. Everything was swirling. She sat on the couch, trying to calm herself, to still her mind.

“What’s wrong, Elia?” He asked, sitting next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She did not jump, so he left it there.

Could she tell him? Would he believe her? She had to try. She relayed the encounter her encounter with Death, ending with, “Why is Death speaking to me?”

She looked to him. His mind was lost in thought, his free hand pressing fingers to his lips. His eyes were unfocused, staring across the room at nothing.

After several moments, he replied, “Maybe you were closer to dead than we thought. A broken rib could tear through your lungs, and since you hadn’t eaten, healing would have been slow…” 

“But why is Death speaking to me?! I didn’t know it could do that.”

Spencer shook his head. “Neither did I, but the voice had no reason to lie to you. And even if it did, does it make a difference?”

“I suppose not… What did it mean when it said, ‘you can no longer give life’? I can’t give life, right? Or will cells and bacteria die in my body now?”

“No… I don’t think that is it. I think you were saved from an early death in exchange for your, uh, fertility.”

“Oh,” she said. She leaned back into the couch. With Spencer’s hand on her shoulder, her shoulder’s stretching was gone, almost forgotten. She hadn’t wanted kids, but there had always been an option…

Spencer looked to her. “Are you okay? I know this is a lot to handle.”

“It is, but at least I know,” she said, voice quiet. She was a million miles away. She wanted to be a million miles away. She wanted to run, scream, fly, anything but sit here and exist where her life was. A life she had almost lost. A life she paid for. She didn’t want it. It wasn’t just the infertility, it was everything. She had made herself into this monster. Could she have made them painless?

“Elia, are you okay?” Spencer brought her back with his voice.

“No… No, I am not. I paid for a new life! This new life is… It isn’t… I’m being watched by the FBI! I have fucking wings! I am a…” She stopped herself from saying it out loud, and stood. If she tried to leave, Spencer would have to tell the FBI. He would tell them everything. He would tell them about this.

“Elia…?” Spencer’s voice was so sympathetic. Why?

She spun, furious. “Just go tell them! Tell them I made a deal with death! Tell them I am a demon from my own mind who can’t have kids! Tell the FBI everything! Just get it over with!” She felt them coming, and she welcomed it. She wanted them to come. She wanted to burst through his pretty windows and descend into the night.

He grabbed her arms, gently but firmly. “They don’t need to know. This… This is something you needed to know, but no one else. The source doesn’t solve anything, nor does it change anything.”

Her anger faded almost immediately. She looked into those big, brown eyes and saw safety. This was about more than orders for him.

She felt tears coming, and she couldn’t cry in front of him. She was strong, stronger than this.

“You need to take this new life as a gift. Use it. Live it. Death spared you for a reason, even if that reason is just that you deserve to live. Let us help you. Let me help you.”

“Okay,” she said, “You’re right.” He was right, and she didn’t want to die, even with everything. She had to fight for this life, like she had before.

“I do not judge you for this, any of it. You are so much stronger than you know. Get some sleep, okay? We will talk more in the morning.”


	15. Taking Flight

She wandered back to her room, still shaken. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her wrists. What was wrong with her? She had probably woken him up with that panic. He needed to rest. So did she.

As she sat on the bed, tears began to fall. She put a hand over her mouth so he would not hear her. She didn’t want to bother him more than she already had. Her shoulders shook, and soon she was curled into a bath of self-pity.

After crying for some time, she got angry with herself. She was free! She had a new life! She had wings! Many of those things were a double-edged sword, but she had them.

She pushed herself out of bed, not sure what her goal was. She paced for a moment, before it hit her. She needed to fly. She had so much nervous energy, and she needed to get it out.

She quietly rummaged through her drawers, finding a backless tank top and low riding bra. She placed a ratty t-shirt on the floor, to catch any blood, and curled up on it. Anxiety that had been hurriedly shoved down was released, and she could feel them coming. Everything about the last few days was overwhelming her. The last thing she did before her back ripped was ball up the shirt she had been wearing and gag herself with it.

Everything was so loud, and she was terrified that Spencer would hear. He would never understand why she needed to do this. Maybe if she did it enough, the pain would be tolerable. This time, it wasn’t.

She tried to control her wings as the ripped out of her. Normally, they would expand in the space until they were fully formed, but this bedroom wasn’t big enough. She cursed herself, thinking she should have done it outside. She prayed that her wings would leave the room undisturbed as she passed out.

When she woke, everything was quiet. Spencer was not at her door or in her room. Her wings were carefully folded behind her, and nothing had been hit in the room. She grinned to herself, and thanked her wings for listening to her while she was out.

Her room had a huge window in it, like in the living room. She found it to be unlocked, so she pushed it open gently. It creaked slightly, so she crouched by the open window, waiting for Spencer to come in. When he didn’t, she stepped out on the window ledge, and jumped.

As she fell, she realized she didn’t know if she could actually fly. She had flown around in the warehouse, sure, but what about now? She should have tested it.

While she panicked about whether or not she could fly, her wings came to attention. They snapped open like a parachute, and caught her. That brought her out of her spiral, and she flapped her wings. Once, twice, three times, and she was rising.

She soared up, above the rooftops. No one should see a woman with dragon wings flying around, especially since she wasn’t supposed to.

The feeling was exhilarating. The soreness in her shoulders eased, and she realized her wings had held themselves tight against her in the bedroom. They hadn’t been able to spread all the way out since before the hospital, and she loved it.

She flew all around DC, taking in the sights and sounds. Her vision and hearing was no better than normal, but it was still beautiful.

After she circled the DC area, she flew south to the river. The Potomac River sparkled in the moonlight. She allowed herself to hover over the water, skimming it with her toes on occasion.

She wanted to follow it to the ocean, but she knew that was miles away. She knew she had to go home soon. She climbed high in the sky, and sailed back toward the city. She had a moment of panic, realizing she wasn’t sure where Spencer lived, but her wings gently guided her back to the wide-open window.

She found herself reluctant to go inside. Her wings would be forced to retract, and she wanted to fly forever. How long could she last? She grew tired though, as her feet touched the window sill. She would have to try again tomorrow. Her face lit up as she realized she could do this every night, as long as she wasn’t caught. That made it easier to slip back inside the room.

With her wings folded tight around her again, she curled up on the tattered t-shirt. There didn’t seem to be any blood on it, but it was better to be safe. As she lay on the floor, she thought about sleeping with her wings out. That sounded heavenly, but the idea of Spencer finding her like that…

She pictured safety, which was relatively easy in here. She felt truly safe in this room in Spencer’s apartment. She gagged herself, and waited. The pain was, again, more intense, and her back arched. She had to hold a hand over her mouth to help the gag. She passed out at some point, but didn’t wake up immediately, instead falling asleep for the night.


	16. Food and Phonetics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, drug abuse, drug use, forced drug use, capture.

Nightmares came on and off, but she couldn't wake from them. One involved being forcibly drugged with meth until she was begging for more. One had her running from something down an endless hall. The last one was the worst, though. In it, Spencer grew irritated with her presence, and kicked her out. Blank faced FBI agents locked her in the back of a windowless van and drove her away. Spencer watched her as she was pulled away, grim set to his face. He hadn't enjoyed kicking her out, but it needed to be done.

When she first woke up, she was sure that one had been real. Spencer's grim look haunted her waking eyes. She realized she was still on the floor, but, thankfully, the gag had found its way out of her mouth.

She ran into the bathroom. The door was open, obvious in the morning light. Cold water splashed across her face, and that helped her separate fact from fiction. She wouldn't be in here still if that had happened.

A shower sounded amazing, and looking at her back, it was definitely necessary. It was streaked with old blood, painting her scars with rust. She looked the door, stripped, and turned on the water. There was no blood on her shirt, which she thought was odd, but it was better than explaining bloody clothes to Spencer.

She had the water set to hot this time, and it felt wonderfully. Everything washed away in that heat, and it soothed her sore muscles from sleeping on the floor. If she was going to keep doing this, she would need to figure out a way to get herself into bed after.

She took a longer shower than was needed, wrapped a towel around her, and walked out. Normally, she would have used two towels, one for her long hair, but she didn’t want to use all the towels in the bathroom.

There was a light knocking at the door. "Elia?" Spencer called, hesitantly. 

"Yeah, I'm here." She dried her face on a luscious towel.

“How are you feeling?” he called from the other side of the door.

“I’m better.” She opened the door. He stood there in a robe on top of pajamas. He looked at her in just a towel, then quickly looked away. She was thankful for that, and it gave her more confidence in living with him. He wouldn’t cross boundaries.

He walked to the kitchen, and she stepped into her bedroom.

She emerged, clothed and clean, a few minutes later. She left her long hair loose, damp waves cascading to her mid back. With it this long, she could hide the mess of scars on her back in a backless shirt. Spencer didn’t look at her at first, but she said, laughing. “I’m clothed. Your safe.”

“Breakfast?” he asked. He didn’t even begin to acknowledge what had happened at the bathroom door.

“That sounds wonderful.” She hadn’t been able to eat after they got back last night, but her stomach announced itself with a loud growl. She smiled sheepishly, and followed him to the kitchen.

His fridge was mostly empty. “I need to go shopping,” he said, sounding a little embarrassed, “but I have enough for today’s breakfast.”

He started pulling food out of the fridge: a mostly empty carton of eggs, a half rasher of bacon, and butter.

“Can I help?” she asked.

“No, no, I’ve got this,” he replied, concentrating on food prep. He found a partial loaf of bread and a pan.

“If I am going to eat your food and live in your house for free, the least I can do is cook. I don’t want to be a burden.”

He stopped what he was doing to look at her. “You are not a burden, Elia.”

After he finished cooking a huge breakfast, he set two plates on the table. It tasted like heaven, and she devoured it all.

He didn’t bring up the night before while she ate, and she didn’t really want to talk about it. They ate in silence.

When she was done, she started loading dishes, pans, and utensils into the dishwasher.

“You are not a burden, Elia,” he repeated, “I am happy to help, and the Bureau is helping pay for certain things. Besides, I have money.”

She said nothing. She may not be a direct burden, but she was definitely affecting his life. She didn’t know if it was for the better or not.

“Elia…”

“I don’t know if I can believe that,” she replied quietly, loading the last of the dishes.

“I will help you try,” Spencer said.

Elia turned, and saw determination and empathy in his eyes. He was surprisingly easy to read for an FBI agent, and she wondered if had a “poker face” for work.

After she loaded the dishwasher, she showed him online shopping. He had been reluctant to go with or without her, so they loaded a virtual cart with groceries, set to deliver.

While they waited, she retreated to the room. Her room? Was it hers now? She wanted to give him plenty of space in his apartment, letting him live his life as normally as possible. Despite her impromptu flight last night, she still had an itch, a need to do something, so she settled for teaching herself something.

Spencer knocked an hour later. “Just checking in.”

“Come in,” she said, not looking up. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Teaching myself how to write and read phonetically,” she replied. She was halfway through a phonetics textbook that she had purchased in college. She had always meant to teach herself, and now she had plenty of time. She had a notebook in front of her, and she was working through the phonetic problems one by one. She had filled many pages already with IPA symbols and was now thinking on this last, more complicated sentence.

“Really?” He seemed surprised, so she looked up.

“Yeah.”

“Can I see?”

“Um, sure… Remember, I am learning…”

She handed him the notebook, and he flipped through the pages quickly. It didn’t look like he was actually reading them, but then he said, “This is really well done. Very accurate.”

“Thank you.” She shrugged. “It isn’t particularly difficult.”

“I suppose not… Why learn though?”

“I have always been fascinated by linguistics, and I have all the time in the world now, I guess. Might as well.”

Spencer seemed intrigued. “Can I help?”

“Um, sure?”

“You are clearly doing well, but it helps to practice with others.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

He found a fresh page toward the back of the notebook and carefully wrote out several lines, before handing it back to her. “Read those out loud, if you can.”

She scanned them quickly. Too easy. “’Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— / I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.’ Come now, Dr. Reid. Popular poetry is too simple. If we are doing that, here are my favorite lines.”

She wrote them out carefully, slower than he had. Less practice meant preciseness, especially if she wanted to impress him.

Spencer’s mouth twitched into a half smile. “‘My ear should catch your voice. My eye, your eye. / My tongue should catch your tongue’s sweet melody.’ Shakespeare?”

“I am not the biggest fan of Shakespeare. I feel he is a little over studied, but I like those words. The kind of romantic I like, you know?”

“I suppose.”

They spent the day writing back in forth in the notebook. Her grasp of IPA improved with each exchange. He never seemed to run out of quotes. When she did, she made up her own. He didn’t seem to notice at first, simply happy with their little game. When he did start to realize it, he wrote his own new lines back. She liked these a lot better, and they played the game until the delivery came, laughing.


	17. A New Life Becomes Normal

They put the groceries together in silence. She felt infinitely more comfortable around him now, and he seemed to feel the same.

Finally, as the last of the dry goods was squared away, he asked the dreaded question. “How are you feeling about last night's… revelations?”

As far as she was aware, he had kept his promise. The FBI didn’t know. She supposed she had to talk if she wanted it to remain a secret.

“I’m still a little freaked out. I don’t know what this means for me. How strong are my wings? How powerful am I? And, the most pressing… Does Death want me to kill? He said those men weren’t the price, but…” She remembered his haunting words, “Three souls for one is a good trade.”

“I don’t think it made you an instrument of Death, Elia. Did you enjoy killing those men?”

She shuddered. “At the time, yes, but not anymore. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“Then it doesn’t have to. I know the FBI would appreciate that, and so would I.”

She didn’t really want to discuss this, and thankfully there was a knock on the door. She let Spencer answer it, but she was sure it for her.

Hotch strode into Spencer’s apartment, notebook in hand. “Hello, Elia. I am here to check in, see how you are doing.”

Spencer quietly retreated to his room without being told. She felt a little uncomfortable, but sat on one of the cushioned chairs next to the couch, where Hotch sat. 

When he was ready to write, she replied, “I am doing well, actually. Spencer has been so considerate and kind. I feel safe here.” She said nothing of her conversation with Death, or of her nighttime flight. Hotch didn’t need to know.

“You seem to be more even-tempered. What did you do today?”

“Um, Spencer and I had breakfast, ordered some groceries, played a phonetics game, and put away groceries.” She shrugged. “Casual day.”

Hotch smiled. “Sounds like it. How did you know Reid liked linguistics?”

“I didn’t, actually. I was teaching myself, and he saw when he checked in. We made a game of it.” She smiled, thinking of how fun the game had been. She wondered what else they could do together.

“That’s wonderful. Have your wings come out at all?”

She stilled her face completely. She couldn’t reveal anything to him. Spencer would get in trouble for not watching her. “There were a few close calls, some nightmares, but I have it handled. At least, I think so.”

Her entire day had been wonderfully relaxed. Maybe she needed to let them out and use them to calm the energy?

“That’s great to hear. I am glad this is working out. I need to head home now, but let me know if you need anything.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a box. “And this is for you. It has all the team’s numbers pre-programmed, and it is paid for. Please feel free to contact any of us, though Spencer is obviously the closest.”

“Thank you so much, Hotch.” The cell phone was a basic flip phone, but it meant a lot. They were treating her like she was in trouble, as opposed to being the trouble. She almost felt bad for flying last night. Almost.

Hotch headed for the door, calling a goodbye to Spencer. Spencer slipped out of his room to say goodbye face to face. Elia noticed that he kept his door mostly closed. She didn’t mind; he should have some place all to himself, if he wanted it.

As soon as Hotch left, Spencer spun around to face her. “How did it go?”

“I think it has been a success. He seems impressed at the change even one day has brought. I made sure to tell him how well you had been doing, too.”

“I’m not worried about that, but thank you. You do seem a lot better. More put together.” He studied her with curious eyes. She felt less like a woman being looked at by a man, and more like a science experiment.

“Chalk it up to your calming influence, I guess.”

He met her gaze, considering for a moment, but relented. “Dinner?”

“Really, is it that late?” She looked at a clock. It was nearly 6:30 p.m. It didn’t feel like that much time had passed. “Oh, then yeah, sure. Thank you.”

They had an easy dinner, chatting generally. He left Death out of it, and she was glad. She didn’t know what to say about it right now.

When dinner was over, they went to their separate rooms. She worked on phonetics until she felt like he was asleep, then she went to the window.

***

The next week and half was more of the same. They became more comfortable around each other. Instead of retreating to their rooms, they would spend time more and more time together. Reading next to each other, practicing phonetics, playing chess (though he always won), and learning from each other. She didn’t tell him much more about her past. They would exchange interesting tidbits and statistics. Sometimes she would read to him, and sometimes he would read to her.

Once, they sat together on the couch for hours, while he explained each of his theses to her. She had listened attentively, asking questions when she didn’t understand. He had seemed surprised that she was interested, but he talked happily when she didn’t stop him. She liked listening to him ramble about things he cared about. He became so animated and his grin would light his whole face.

Sometimes, one of the team would come to visit. Once, Garcia, JJ, and Emily all came over for a movie night. Another night, Rossi and Morgan came to play poker. They always made sure to include her, and she felt it. 

A moving company was paid to pack up and move her stuff. She didn’t have a lot, but it made the room feel a little more like home. As the room was furnished, she left all of her furniture for the next housemate that would move in.

She went out flying almost every night. After Spencer had been in his room for a period of time, she would let the transformation come. It still hurt, and she still gagged herself most of the time, but she was also starting to like it. The wings were the definition of freedom, and she could handle the pain for that.

The hardest part was coming home and putting them away again. That pain was tinged with sorrow. She never wanted to stop flying, but she knew that wasn’t an option. She hadn’t quite figured out how to wake up before the next morning, but she drew the wings back in on her bed now. She found a tarp on one of her flights. It was dirty, but free of holes, so she cleaned it, and used it to keep the blood of her sheets and blanket. She had it mostly worked out now.


	18. Did She Run Away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture, medical torture, blood mention

Spencer woke with a start. He wasn’t one for nightmares, usually, not since the beginning of his career in the BAU. He would have them on occasion, after a particularly difficult case, but nothing like this.

Elia had been strapped to a table, her wings spread wide, also bound. Scientists were examining her, testing her limits. They started by stabbing her with various knives, to see which would go through. Then, they shot her with an assortment of bullet calibers. They were writing everything down in little notebooks and talking with each other, over Elia’s pained gasps and cries.

He tried to stop them, but they started reporting their findings to him. He told them to stop, but they said that he had told them to do it in the first place. Elia’s eyes were filled with such hate and despair. He apologized and tried to free her, but couldn’t. The bindings were all impossible math problems.

He had woken up then, fingers twitching. He curled up on his bed. He could never do that to her, could he?

A glass of water was needed, and he was too awake to wait. He wandered out of his room and into the kitchen.

As he finished the water, he heard something from Elia’s room. He walked to the door, about to knock, but faltered. He really didn’t want to disturb her if she was asleep. He pressed an ear to the door, expecting to hear breathing or snoring, but there was nothing. The room was completely silent.

He stepped back and took a deep breath. It was probably nothing. Maybe she was a quiet sleeper? He knew in his heart that wasn’t it. She would understand, right? He knocked.

There was no response. He knocked again, harder. Still nothing. He felt panic rising. He ran to his phone. She had put her number in by calling him. She had been so excited about a new phone, and she wanted to test it. He called her, desperate.

As he walked back to her room, he could hear his ring tone echoing. It rang through, and he got her voicemail.

Unable to wait any longer, he threw the door open.

The window was wide open, drapes billowing in the light breeze. She was gone. A tarp was on the bed, and he had no idea where it had come from. There was no blood…

He leaned out the huge window, bracing himself for her crumpled body on the pavement. She had seemed so happy, more so every day…

She wasn’t on the ground either.

He looked to the tarp again, and threw it open. It was crimson with fresh blood. How had he not heard her transformation? Was the noise a muffled scream, or the window? He still couldn’t understand why she had run. He truly thought she was happy.

He found himself on the ground, his arms pulling his knees tightly to him. He had no idea where she was or what she was doing. Was she okay? How strong were her wings? And how strong was she? She had gained back some of her lost weight in the last weeks, and she looked better, healthier, but he didn’t know how strong she was.

Hotch! Oh god, he was going to be furious. Spencer didn’t know what to do. Or he knew what to do, but didn’t want to do it. His phone was in his hand. The next step was to call Hotch, tell him she was gone, and he didn’t know where.

After minutes (or hours, he couldn’t tell) of deliberation, he unlocked his phone. He was about to press Hotch’s speed dial when a noise made him look up.

A figure was landing on the window sill. She looked majestic. Her long dark hair, her eyes flashing in the moonlight, her huge wings glittering like stars. Elia had come back? And she was smiling, grinning. She was filled to bursting with delight.

He stood quickly, afraid to scare her by hiding in the shadows. “Elia…?”

She jumped back, almost falling out the window. She managed to grab the frame, and pull back in. Pure panic ran across her face now, her wings twitching with it. She looked like she wanted to run.

“Oh Elia, thank god you are okay! And you came back? Why did you run away?”

She looked at him, panic easing slightly. Had she expected fury? “I didn’t run away, Spencer. I don’t want to.”

“You flew out the window, without telling me! I thought you had been taken, ran, or worse, been killed!”

She shuffled awkwardly in place. “I’m sorry. I just… I need to fly sometimes. I didn’t want you to think I was running, so I didn’t tell you. You never noticed before.”

“Before? How many times have you done this?”

“Many times. Almost every night. They need to be stretched and used, like any muscle. I feel it if I don’t go for too long…”

Spencer didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t condone this, but she had been getting so much better. Her anxiety came sometimes, and he had helped her, but it was becoming less common. If this was helpful, could he really say no? He knew Hotch wouldn’t approve of this either, but…

“I can understand that. Anxiety disorders often lead to a need to do something. If your anxiety is tied to your wings, it could definitely mean using them would relieve anxiety. I just… I wish you had told me, Elia. I was so worried…”

He sat on her bed, and she sat next to him, one wing almost brushing his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Spencer. I know it is hard to trust me, that is why I didn’t say anything. And I figured it would be best if you didn’t know. Plausible deniability and all that.”

“Plausible deniability only works if it isn’t your job to pay attention to someone. If someone shot the president, and the secret service didn’t know, they couldn’t deny knowledge and have that be enough.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Spencer, I have been flying around every night. I fly high in the sky, and head away from big cities. Sometimes I fly over the water. One night, I made it all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. I’m surprised you didn’t catch me that night. I am very careful, and it makes things easier. Is that okay with you?”

He sighed. “Yeah, that is okay with me. Please, just tell me things okay. You know I won’t tell Hotch. I had hoped… I mean, after the Death thing… Do you trust me, Elia?”

“Of course I do, Spencer! But trust is hard… I am not used to it. Give me time.” She paused. “Were you really worried? Your first thought was that I had been taken, rather than that I ran?”

“I trust you, Elia. I only came in your room after your phone rang through.”

“That means a lot to me Spencer.” She smiled at him, then wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug.

He was surprised at first, but he needed the hug. He wrapped his arms around her as well. Her wings remained well spread out, as if she was afraid they would ruin it. He didn’t think they would.

When she started to pull away, he let go. “I should, uh, I should go back to bed. Unless, do you want some help with… those?”

“No, no, I’ve got it. I’ve been doing it for a while now.” She gave a reassuring smile.

“How have I not heard you screaming?”

Her face stilled. He had noticed her do this when he asked her questions she didn’t want to answer. It was as if all emotion had been stripped away, leaving a careful mask.

“Never mind,” he said, “I don’t need to know.”

She nodded gratefully.

He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t want to leave her alone to suffer, but she seemed like the type who preferred it that way.

He went back to his room, and lay on the bed. He strained his ears, but he couldn’t hear much of anything coming from next door. Eventually, he fell asleep.


	19. Open and Honest Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drug abuse mention, prostitution mention, sexual assault hint, blood mention

The next morning, Elia woke slowly. Her flight last night had been a long one, and she could feel it. Her arms were sore, as if they had been the ones flapping all night. Then it hit her. Spencer knew.

She wanted to talk to him right away, but she was sticky with blood. She wrapped the tarp around her naked body and headed to the bathroom.

She washed herself and the tarp thoroughly, slightly dreading the conversation with Spencer. He hadn’t seemed mad, but…

When she had seen him emerge from beside her bed, she had almost screamed. He was going to be furious. He was going to scream at her. Memories of her father, step-father, mother, and step-mother had danced across her eyes as he came towards her.

But he was just sad and worried. That made her feel bad in a way she didn’t expect. She would have to start telling him things. That was what she was dreading.

After she was all dried off and dressed, she went to the living room. He was sitting on the couch reading, but he looked up.

“How did you sleep, Elia?” he asked.

Again, she couldn’t tell if he was mad. She took a deep breath, and replied, “I slept well, but I am a little sore… Can we talk, please?”

He looked surprised. They had spent so many days not talking about the awkward knowledge they shared. He stopped trying to bring up Death, her anxiety, and probably would have let the flying go too.

“Yeah, uh, what about?” he asked.

“Um, I thought I would leave that up to you? I haven’t been answering your questions, and I should. You are right, you have been nothing but helpful and understanding. So, I am going to try to be open. Have patience.”

“Elia, you don’t have to do this…”

“No, it’s okay. Ask away.”

“How do you feel about your wings now that you have been using them?”

“Um, better? A lot better, actually. Flying feels amazing, better than almost anything else, and I am happy with them.”

He smiled, and asked, “Why did you decide to fly the first time?”

“I had just learned about Death, and I needed to move. I didn’t want you to have to escort me or something, so I made a snap decision. It was definitely what I needed. I have never stretched them before, not all the way.”

His eyes widened as he realized how long she had been sneaking out, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he asked, “Doesn’t it hurt though?” 

“Of course it hurts, but it is just something I have to do now.” She shrugged. “It gets a little easier every time. Not less painful, but easier. The hardest is putting them away.”

“Why?”

“Because I just want them to be loose and free forever. They don’t want to go back in, and I don’t want them to either. Makes it difficult to force them back.”

“How do you make them go back in then?”

She didn’t reply immediately. This question was a hard one. She didn’t know how he would reply to her inappropriate answer, but she had promised honestly.

After a steadying breath, she finally answered, “Well, um, I think about you… I feel safe in your apartment, and I know if anything went wrong, you would help.”

His eyes widened, but he controlled the rest of his face. “What, um, what do you do to, uh… How do you get them to come out…?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I think of being kicked out. I think of how much people would hate me if they knew about them. I fear betrayal and hate, and that brings them out.”

“I don’t hate you, Elia, and I know,” he murmured, “The team doesn’t hate you. Not even Morgan.”

She found his eyes again, and he looked hurt. “I… Thank you, Spencer. It’s just a fear I have. Not necessarily rational.”

He sighed. “I can understand that fear. I will do everything in my power to prevent that. I don’t want that for you.” He thought of his own nightmare. He hated the thought, but it wasn’t impossible. He couldn’t promise her safety, not completely. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, but the Bureau might change their mind. He couldn’t really stop them.

She smiled, feeling slightly relieved. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. In the car ride over here the first time, you said your ‘past line of work.’ What kind of work was that?”

She blushed. “I, uh… Think about it, Spencer, what is a girl to do when she has no money? When she has no money and wants drugs? When she can’t get a ‘real’ job, because she is using drugs?”

“Oh. Oh! But, you… You were young, 15 when you went into outpatient the first time… Oh my god, Elia…” he stammered.

“I know… It was difficult. Getting sober was hard, but knowing where I would go back to… That made it easier.”

He held his arms out, and she slid into the hug. She hadn’t known that she needed it, but people rarely sympathized with that experience. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against the swell of his chest.

She pulled away when she realized she was enjoying it too much. He had made it very clear who she was, what she was. And who could ever love someone like her? She hated herself for what she had done, and what had been done to her.

He let her go without any resistance, and, again, she was thankful Spencer was who he was.

“Is that why being touched makes you jump?”

“I’m actually incredibly tactile. It’s more about being startled than the touch itself. The jumpiness comes from the bad side of that kind of payment.”

She didn’t elaborate, but she didn’t need to. Spencer had worked in the BAU for long enough to know.

The rest of their day was calm. He felt much more able to be near her when she had explained her situation. If she was tactile, maybe more physical contact would help? He could never suggest that though. It would see like he wanted more from her.

He was happy that she had trusted him enough to tell him about her past. He could understand so much now, but it also worried him. It was clear that she had trouble trusting people, but if she did trust someone, it would be a huge step. What if he couldn’t keep her safe?

These last couple weeks had been easy. They hadn’t gotten any cases, and Hotch was letting Spencer do his paperwork from home. A case would come eventually, and then what? What would happen when they weren’t safely nestled in the comfort of his apartment?

He tried not to think of that. After their discussion, she made him breakfast, seeming to enjoy the change in focus. They spent the day chatting about their lives, her more open to it now that he knew so much.

He again promised not to tell Hotch any of it, but he started to feel nervous. He was hiding a lot from his supervisor. If Hotch ever found out… But who would tell him?

They ended the day with a few rounds of chess, and a light dinner. She told him she would be flying tonight, and he nodded, thanking her for letting him now. He wanted to be there for her and to watch her fly off into the night, but it was her thing to do alone. He went to bed, and felt more at peace than he had in a long time.


	20. Called Away on a Case

A loud knocking woke her from her deep sleep. Spencer was calling her name from the other side of the door.

She launched herself out of bed, and opened the door unthinking. Spencer was standing there, fully dressed.

“Spencer, is everything alright?” She asked, happy she had been wearing pajamas to bed at his place.

“The BAU has a case, we need to be at the federal office in-” he looked at his watch “twenty-two minutes. Get dressed.”

“We? I’m going?”

His expression became pained. “Garcia is going to watch you, remember?”

“Oh, right. Give me a moment.” She gently closed the door in his face, and walked back into her room. She knew they were in a hurry, but she wasn’t awake enough for rushing yet. She threw on some clothes, pulled a brush through her hair, and put it up into a ponytail. 

When she opened the door, Spencer was readying a bag on the couch, so she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Hopefully, there would be breakfast at the office. She grabbed her go bag, which he had made her prepare before, and slipped out into the night.

She saw the time was 3:42 am when she slid into the passenger seat of his car. She groaned, leaning into the seat.

“I know,” he said, starting the car, “Sometimes, this job sucks.” He pulled them out of the parking lot, and they drove.

When they got to the office, it was almost completely dark. She could tell where the BAU’s offices were by their lonely lights. She followed Spencer into the building, and they didn’t stop moving until they got to a conference room. Garcia smiled at her, and led her away as the briefing started. Elia looked at Spencer once before she left, but he was focused on the case already, head buried in a file.

“You don’t want to be in there anyway,” Garcia said, “Some of these cases are hard to look at, and this one's a doozy.”

“You’ve seen the files?” Elia asked.

“Yeah, I had to look for evidence and connections. Yucky stuff.” Garcia led Elia down the halls until they entered a room with at least ten separate monitors at all angles. “Welcome to my lair, sugar. This will be your home for the next few days.”

Elia sat on the couch, exhausted. “Where are they going? How long will they be gone?”

Garcia was already seated and starting up all the equipment. “Sorry, sweetie. I can’t tell you, classified and all. Just relax there, you look tired. I have to work, but you can take a nap.”

She crumpled into the couch, giving up on staying awake. While she was a sleep, she felt something drape over her. She stirred, but a comforting voice shushed her, and she did not wake. Some hours later, she woke with a start. It took her a moment to place herself in Garcia’s “lair.”

“Good morning, sugar. Coffee?” Garcia said, her fingers clacking away.

Elia rubbed her eyes. “No, I don’t drink coffee. Can I get some food and water, though?” She looked down at herself, and there was a sweater draped over her. “Wait, who’s is this?”

Garcia didn’t turn. “Food and water are a go. I will have someone bring breakfast for us both. I should probably eat something too. The sweater is Spencer’s. He came to say goodbye, but you were out. Apparently, you looked cold.” She didn’t sound like she believed that.

Elia smiled. When had Spencer become such a mother hen?

Food came and went. Garcia got calls from the team on occasion, and Elia tried not to listen. Classified information and all. Thankfully, Garcia had a headset, and seemed to be censoring her replies. Elia couldn’t imagine what they would do if she got classified information on top of everything else.

Garcia’s office was surprisingly cold. Elia guessed it was to keep all the computers from overheating. After a long debate, she eventually put on Spencer’s sweater. She had folded it and left it on the arm of the couch after she woke up, but since he had left it for her… It was warm and it smelled nice. She fought the urge to snuggle into it, afraid Garcia would see and get the wrong idea.

Night came, and Elia was buried in a book. Garcia told her they were probably going to have to stay the night. She, thankfully, hadn’t commented on Elia wearing Spencer’s sweater, but she did see Garcia’s face light up a touch when she saw.

She curled back up on the couch, not taking off his sweater, and slept.

Her dreams were nightmare free.


	21. Focus on the Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture mention, murder mention, graphic descriptions of violence

Spencer sat in the back of the vehicle, not thinking about the case. This was the first time he was leaving her alone, and he was worried. She was an adult, but an adult prone to wings. He trusted Garcia, but he didn’t know if she was ready.

It didn’t matter though. The case came, and he was needed.

“Reid?” Emily asked.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked you a question about the case?”

“Oh, right… Sorry. I’m a little tired, can you say it again?” He was tired, but he was used to waking up like this.

Emily didn’t comment, “This unsub has killed 3 cops and their families in their homes. What do you think about it?”

He flipped into case mode. “Each of the cop’s family members were killed quickly. Execution style, one bullet to the back of the head. The cops, however, were stabbed between 15 and 40 times. I think this unsub hates police officers. The families seem to be additional torture, rather than targets. From the ligature marks and drag marks, I would say each cop was taken to witness the death of their family members, before finally being stabbed.”

“There he is! Good to have you back,” Morgan teased, “Long night?”

He had actually gone to bed early. Elia had made herself as unobtrusive as possible during her flight, and he hadn’t heard her. He still worried about her flying around, but it seemed to be helpful, necessary even. He could not fight her on it, especially since she always came back.

Spencer ignored the comment, instead adding, “We should start looking for people with negative interactions with cops. Also, we should have Garcia try to connect these cops to each other. Why have these cops been killed? There has to be a reason they were chosen.”

He thought of Elia in Garcia’s office. He had dropped in to say good-bye, but she was fast asleep. She had looked peaceful, but cold. He hoped she didn’t mind his sweater.

Morgan called Garcia and relayed Spencer’s requests. Spencer resisted the urge to check-in on his new tenant, instead adding pieces that might help to narrow down the search.

When they arrived at the station, tensions were high. Cops hate a cop-killer, understandably. They were all anxious to catch the person responsible. Thankfully, this meant easy cooperation. Everything was set up, and the cops were almost falling over each other to help.

Despite this, leads were hard to find. The unsub was careful to cover their tracks, and they killed all possible witnesses. Spencer found himself lost to research, barely able to worry about Elia.

Finally, Garcia had a break. After some amazing sleuthing, she found that one of the cops had a neighbor with cameras on their house. This gave the agents a car to look for, and a general image of a white man walking toward the cop’s house with a gun.

Spencer and Emily interviewed the neighbor, and they found out the car had been in the neighborhood off and on for a few weeks, which match the timeline of a three weeks between kills. They gave Spencer a partial, and Garcia pulled the car’s registration and owner.

Spencer felt that familiar surge of confidence. They had him.


	22. A Lone Gunman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood mention, gunshot wound, death mention

“Alright, Elia, time to go!” Spencer called from down the hall.

Garcia grinned at Elia as she scrambled to get Spencer’s sweater off, but still said nothing. Elia folded the sweater and placed it gingerly on the arm of the couch. She could pretend it had been there the whole time.

He rounded the corner, smiling. “Today was a good one! We saved a lot of people. Sadly, the unsub was killed, we couldn’t bring him in.”

Garcia looked horrified. “Spencer, that’s confidential!”

“Don’t worry, it’s already on the news. Come on, let’s get home before another case comes in.” Spencer said. He eyed his sweater on the couch and picked it up, heading for the door.

She fell in step beside him, and whispered, “Thank you.”

He just smiled.

All the other agents joined them as the rounded the bullpen and headed for the lobby. They chatted in the elevator as they descended to the parking garage. Elia was happy to be in the middle, but didn’t join in.

As they exited the elevator, Elia saw a man in a hoodie waiting for them. Her stomach clenched.

“Hello Bureau bitches!” the man growled. Spencer immediately swept Elia behind him. The other agents walked forward, fanning out.

The man pulled out a gun, “You fucks killed my brother! That is exactly why he hated you law types.” The gun cocked, filling the garage with an audible click. “If any of you move to your gun, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Her back was already aflame, but that sound broke her control. She had to help, to protect them. “Spencer…” she groaned.

He didn’t turn to her, keeping his eye on the gunman. “Deep breaths, Elia. It’s okay. We’ve got this.”

But it was too late. Her back exploded. She fell to her knees. Emily and Morgan glanced at her, but Spencer held himself rigid in front of her, knowing she was vulnerable.

The wet ripping echoed through the halls, but she didn’t scream. She had enough practice not to scream out loud anymore. She didn’t want the gunman to know what was happening. The pain was as bad as before, but she knew it now, she understood it. She could stay conscious, she could do this.

She heard her shirt rip next, her wings tearing the fabric to shreds. She let out a pained gasp as they ripped themselves free of her.

“What the fuck is happening?” the gunman demanded. Elia couldn’t see him at all, could he see her? He sounded scared.

“Oh god,” she moaned, as the last of her wings escaped. She could feel her back knitting itself back together, and it wasn’t pleasant either. She had never made it this far without passing out before. Hot needles ran up and down her spine, and everything felt itchy.

She stood, back still frantically healing, and let her wings unfold. They might scare him if nothing else did.

“What the fuck are those?” the gunman grunted

She could see him now, over Spencer’s shoulder. His eyes were wild, his stance weakening. His gun was pointed lower, as if he had forgotten about it.

No one had time to explain. The gunman locked eyes with her, and immediately righted himself. He aimed the gun right between her eyes.

Spencer opened his stance, hiding her once more. “If you want to shoot her, you will have to do it through me!”

“Spencer no!” she hissed.

“Fine by me!” The gunman said, painting a nonchalance over the clear fear in his voice.

“No!” she screamed. Her wings wrapped around Spencer, and she pulled him close to her. Just as her wings closed in front of him, pain exploded among the scales. She heard another shot, but couldn’t move. She held Spencer close against her shaking body, wings equaling that grip, and waited.

She heard the team discuss something in quiet whispers. She felt surprisingly calm buried in his back. She didn’t really want to let go. She felt wonderful in this cocoon, wrapped around him. He felt warm. She hoped he was okay.

Finally, Emily said, “Elia, it’s safe…”

Her wings flew open. Her right wing was sore, and she heard something metallic fall to the ground. Her arms released Spencer, and he lurched forward.

She held herself back from catching him, fearful of Morgan's glaring eyes. They didn’t know what she had done. They thought she had hurt him. Had she hurt him? She stumbled backwards, her wings finding the wall. She braced herself against it.

Spencer didn’t fall to the ground though. He just swayed a little before righting himself. He spun to meet her gaze, a bewildered look on his face.

“Reid, are you alright?” Hotch asked, concern creasing his features. The team came at Spencer from all sides. She stayed pinned against the wall. The gunman lay on the ground, unmoving. That made her feel moderately better.

“Um, yeah. I’m fine, actually.” He didn’t turn away from her.

Hotch looked at her, walking forward a few paces. She couldn’t back away any further.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think, I just, I just-” she stammered.

“What was the last thought you had before you did that?” Hotch’s eyes didn’t hold the same hate that Morgan’s did.

“That- I- I had to protect him. The guy- He was going to shoot him!”

Spencer pushed past the group. He had a clear bruise just above his right clavicle. “Are you alright, Elia?”

“Oh Spencer, you’re hurt. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know if it would work. Are you okay?” She scanned him for more injuries, unsure of whether she had caused them. She couldn’t see any.

Spencer shook his head. “Is your wing hurt? Can I see?”

She slowly, carefully, moved the right wing in front of her. There was still a sore spot on it.

Spencer walked over, studying it carefully. “There is a partial puncture here.” He looked to the ground, scanning. “Ah!” He leaned over and picked something off the ground, showing it to the team, and then her. “A bullet.”

The bullet was partially flattened instead of pointed. It looked like it had hit a wall.

Spencer took another step toward her, carefully. “Can I touch your wing, please?”

She nodded, voice caught in her throat. Her right wing opened toward him, slightly.

With gentle hands, he grasped the arm bones of the wing on either side of the wound. “Guys, come look at this.”

The rest of the team walked forward cautiously, except Emily. Emily seemed undisturbed. They all peered at her wings. Elia fluttered them slightly, uncomfortable with the attention.

“Oh my God!” Garcia said.

Even Morgan looked impressed.

Spencer looked right into her eyes. “Elia, you stopped a bullet with your wings. You saved my life.” He ran his fingers along the grain of the scales, which caused her to shiver. That felt surprisingly nice.

“Wait,” JJ asked, “How can they stop a bullet?”

Rossi leaned in closer. “Well they are tightly knit, but how strong can scales be? Reid?”

Spencer was still closely studying the scaling on her wing, occasionally running his fingers across the plates, gently. He went against the grain only once, finding it to be as uncomfortable to his fingers as Elia had. She held her breath as he examined, not understanding the enjoyment that came from his gentle strokes.

“Reid?” Rossi asked again.

“Oh, yes. Normal scaling is very durable, but not bullet resistant. I can’t tell what these are made of, however. It could a very strong keratin, better than what most reptiles have. Then again, we don’t where these came from. They could be made of almost anything.”

“Spencer,” she whispered, voice shaky, “Are you okay?”

He pulled his eyes from the wings, meeting her gaze. A reassuring smile spread across his face. “Yes, I am okay. I would be a lot more hurt if you hadn’t done that.”

Her eyes dropped to the floor. “Sorry I grabbed you so hard.”

Morgan spoke before Spencer could. “Elia, that was the right choice. You acted on instinct, and saved him from a bullet. I’m sure he can handle a tight hug in exchange, right pretty boy?” he teased.

She found Spencer’s eyes. Those big brown eyes, filled with sympathy and gratitude. “Elia, you did well. Quick thinking and impressive resolve. You didn’t even pass out this time, did you?”

She shook her head.

Garcia laughed. “That is so epically cool! She saved you with hugs and dragon wings!”

Elia smiled despite herself, then laughed. Everyone else joined in laughing. What a strange situation they had all found themselves in.

Spencer continued to examine her wings. Whether he was looking for more wounds or just studying, she didn’t know.

“Can you spread them all the way for me?” he asked.

Careful not to hit anyone, she let both open fully. Garcia gasped at their size. Elia was tall, 5’10, but next her wings, she must seem tiny.

He peered at each section carefully. Occasionally, he would bend a joint or brush her scales. He gently pushed on the retraction points of each of the claws, watching them extend. When he went to the left wing, he did much the same.

“What are you doing, Reid?” Hotch asked.

Spencer was distracted, staring at a patch of scales on her left wing. His tongue was between his teeth, peeking out of his lips as his eyes tracing the intricate details in what little light was in the garage.

“Reid!”

“Oh, sorry Hotch. I don’t get a chance like this every day. I just wanted to see the anatomy, the structure. They are very well made, intricately designed, and strong.” He looked at her and winked. He was the only one who knew that she had subconsciously designed them.

“You can study them another time, Reid.” Hotch didn’t seem as intrigued.

“Not if we want her to keep these hidden I can’t. I don’t want her to have to go through that just so I can study them later.” Spencer stepped away from her wings. “Still, very nice. And very effective. Making them bullet proof was a nice touch. I like not being shot.” He smiled at her.

She met Spencer’s smile with a beaming grin, but his face fell.

“Elia, I’m sorry, but… You have to put them back. My car isn’t big enough.”

Her grin fell to the floor. “Alright. I understand.”

“We will be right here with you, until it is all done. Okay? But we can’t have you winged and out in public,” Spencer said, trying to comfort her. He paused, then added, “You are safe with me.”

“Okay, I will try.” She thought about safety. The gunman was gone, and the team would look out for her. Spencer would be here. He would take her home and there would be good food, but only if her wings were gone. They were safe. Spencer was safe.

She collapsed to her knees again, agony already starting. She could feel all their eyes on her, and she realized Garcia, Rossi, and JJ had never seen this. She didn’t want to see horror on any of their faces, not like she had seen in the hospital. She took a deep steadying breath.

Her back split, and she ground her teeth. Her whole body was tense, and no sound escaped her. As her wings shoved themselves back inside, however, her back arched and she gasped at the pain. It seemed the retraction hurt more because of the forced stretching of her spine, opening the wounds further.

Her fingers grasped at empty air, expecting to find nothing, but a hand found hers. She grabbed it, using its strength to pull her through. Her teeth gritted as she focused all the energy she could on not screaming, on not letting the empty garage echo with her pain. She had to be strong.

She didn’t pass out, and she felt the last of those huge scaled things retract inside her shoulders. Her back healed, skin stretching and itching, and it was over. She found her eyes closed. She opened them slowly.

Spencer was on his knees in front of her, his arm outstretched. She had a white knuckled grip on his long fingers, and was using his other hand to brace himself on the ground. She let go, and her butt hit the backs of her feet.

She held his gaze for a long time before looking to the rest of the team. All their faces were sympathetic this time. Garcia looked like she might cry, though, her mouth a silent O of horror. She ran toward Elia, arms wrapping around her.

“Omigod are you alright? My poor, sweet dear!” Garcia released her from the hug, turning sharply to Morgan. “You had seen that before! How could you ever think she was bad! The poor thing was just ripped apart! And she saved Reid!”

Shame crossed Morgan’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, Elia. Clearly… It looks like you have our boy’s best interests at heart.”

“It’s okay, Morgan,” she replied, voice sounding tight still, “I understand.”

“Can I see your back,” Spencer asked, gently. Her t shirt was shredded at the back, but the collar hadn’t been damaged, so it still covered her front just fine.

“Yeah, sure.”

He carefully walked behind her. “Can I touch you?”

“Um, yes.” She was surprised that he asked. He wasn’t a medical doctor, but most people would have just started examining her.

His hands were soft and tender. He brushed the tattered remains of her shirt away and ran his fingers over the scars. It felt soothing, which surprised her. She remained silent, not sure what the purpose of this was.

“The scars are the same, no better or worse. I don’t know what their purpose is, but they seem permanent.” He came back to stand in front of her. “I’m curious, are you hurt?”

She didn’t know. She looked at herself, examining the parts she could see, and found a welt and bruise on her right bicep. She pointed it out to Spencer.

He examined carefully. “Interesting. This is about where the bullet hit your wing, but on your arm. I wonder why it didn’t heal.”

“Maybe wounds to the wings themselves can’t be healed? I mean, the scars on my back aren’t really pretty, but everything else that could have scarred didn’t.”

He started to examine her arms, but stopped quickly. It was much more intimate than the wings had been, even though her wings were just as attached.

“Let’s get everyone home now,” Hotch said, eyeing Spencer.

Spencer got something out of the look, and said, “Elia, head on over to the car, I will meet you there.”

She was a little reluctant, but walked over to Spencer’s car. She wondered if she had done something wrong. Or had he? She couldn’t think of anything.


	23. The Almost Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood mention, graphic description of wings emerging

“Reid, what is going on?” Hotch asked.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I honestly don’t know what you are talking about,” Spencer replied.

“So, you are telling me there is nothing going on between you and Elia?”

Spencer felt heavy. He was holding back so many secrets. Could he tell Hotch? No, he had promised. “No, Sir, nothing."

“Are you sure?” Hotch demanded.

Did Hotch think they were having sex? “No, Hotch, there is nothing between us. We just trust each other. Keeping an eye on her means a lot of interactions. We have talked a lot. Nothing more.”

Hotch scanned him carefully. Spencer could feel his supervisor profiling him, but didn’t mind. Hotch would see he was telling the truth.

After some time, Hotch nodded. “Alright, I just had to check.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Night, Reid.” Hotch turned, walking towards his car.

“Night, Hotch,” Spencer called after him.

As he walked to his car, he thought about it. Did he want to have sex with Elia? He honestly didn’t know. He did know that he liked her, he enjoyed her company in his home, and she seemed to like him. But sex? That was so completely off the table, he hadn’t even considered it. He shouldn’t have been considering it. By the time he got to his car, he had shoved the thoughts away. They were pointless anyway.

There was no way to pursue them. He was sure part of the reason she felt so safe around him was because of his tendency to see people before potential partners.

When he climbed in the front seat, Elia immediately asked, “What did Hotch want to talk to you about?” She looked nervous, and she had pressed her shoulders into the seat. Thankfully, she had put something between her back and the seat.

“He just wanted to check in, see how things were going. He might have been suspicious about how fluid your transition was, but he didn’t ask about it.”

“Fluid?” she snapped, “That shit still hurts. Just because I am more used to it, doesn’t mean it is easy.” She ground her shoulder blades into the covered seat.

“Are you alright, Elia?” Spencer asked, looking away from the road.

She said nothing at first, and he could feel anger rolling off her. After a few minutes, she calmed, and said, “Sorry, I’m a little… pent up. My wings came out, but I didn’t stretch them. I’m all itchy and antsy. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“Oh my goodness, Elia,” Spencer said, “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. It’s been what? Four, five nights? I should have… I don’t know how being on a case will work around that. Garcia won’t let you out of her sight.”

“It’s alright. I will survive. I’ll just go out after we get home.” She was still antsy though, fidgeting in the seat of the car.

He drove away from town and out into the rural areas. It took a little longer than it would have to go home, but she wasn’t paying attention.

They got to a huge empty field at dusk. She opened her door in a huff, but stopped half way out.

“Where are we?” she asked, sounding a little afraid.

“Nowhere. I figured, since we are already driving, why not go somewhere with no people. You can fly free. If you don’t want me to watch, I can go back to the car.”

“This is perfect, Spencer! Thank you so much!” She took in each angle of this place. There were miles of rolling farmland and a few cows grazing lazily in tall grasses, but the farmhouse had to be miles away; he couldn’t see it.

He headed back to the car, so she could enjoy herself, but she called out to him. “Spencer! Do you want to see what I can do?”

He turned around and sat on the grass.“I would love to. Do you, uh, want any help?”

“No, I got this,” she replied. She sat on the ground, and folded in on herself, her arms gripping her knees.

He watched her back split open, and it was still a terrible sight. It truly flayed itself, for no real purpose that he could see. Her skin peeled back, and her shoulder blades split to give birth to the wings.

They slid out like a new-born colt, clumsy and blood covered. He was truly impressed that she didn’t scream this time, or any of the times she had snuck out.

When her wings were fully free, her back slid together and healed, months of healing in a minute. The wings spread wide, and he noticed they were clean, while her back was still blood covered. Interesting.

She launched herself into the air in a moment. He could hear her gleeful laughter as she tore through the sky. She flew would fly as high as she could, drop several meters, and then catch herself, with her wings as a parachute. Then, she swirled up in lazy circles, and flew down in jagged lines. Spencer realized she was staying close to him.

“Elia!” he yelled into the sky.

She flew down quickly, hovering about two feet off the ground. He could tell she didn’t want to stop, but would if it was needed.

“You can fly farther,” he said, “You need to stretch, and I trust you.”

She grinned. She sped away, climbing higher as she flew farther away. Soon she was a speck in the distance. A small thread of fear worked its way into Spencer’s gut, but the speck got bigger, and she whooshed over his head. She got as far away the other direction, before spinning and turning back.

She flew for at least an hour. Sometimes she flew for distance, sometimes for speed, and sometimes for tricks. She would graze the ground and try to touch clouds. She would hover around Spencer with slow beating wings, or she would fly by as fast as a car.

He found himself laughing, enjoying the show. She started to fly around him, playing games as she did. He didn’t think she could lift him, so he kept his weight firmly on the ground. After one last dash out into the farmlands, she came back ecstatic. She landed gracefully, one foot gently brushing into the grass, then the other. Her wings didn’t scare him anymore, even with the claws.

She looked very fae as she landed, her skirt whipping around her ankles, her tattered shirt dancing in the wind, her long, wavy hair loose and wild. The scales glittered in the moonlight, like stars in the sky. She looked like the night itself was coming down to earth.

She hit the ground running, and slammed into him, saying, “Thank you!” over and over again.

He couldn’t keep his balance, and he fell to the ground with an _oof_ , dragging her with him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Spencer, are you alright?” She gushed. She had fallen on top of him, so that she lay against him in the grass. Her long hair tickled his face, and her wings tucked themselves above her.

He laughed. “Yeah, I am alright. I would survive a mild fall to see you this happy any day.”

Her eyes were only inches away from his, and her face hovered over his, trembling. He felt her weight on his entire body, and tried not to blush.

She started to lean in, but pulled away at the last second. She pushed herself to sitting, which left her straddling his hips, then stood quickly. He lay on the grass, a little bewildered.

“We should probably go home,” she whispered. It sounded like she was saying it more to herself than to him.

“Yeah…” he said. He pulled himself off the ground, and straightened his clothes.


	24. A Floating Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, death mention

Elia felt like an idiot. She hadn’t realized how much she liked Spencer until that moment in the field, and now it was killing her. Her body was constantly filled with energy now. Not fear, but desire. It made summoning her wings more difficult. She was truly unafraid most of the time, much more focused on other things

When she had gotten up the morning after, she wandered out to the kitchen and started breakfast. Spencer came out as the smell of food filled the house. His pajama bottoms were riding dangerously low. She could she the top of his narrow hips as he stretched. She looked away quickly, focusing all her attention on the food in front of her.

That night, she threw herself out the window for her flight. She nearly let herself hit the ground, but caught herself. She touched the ground with one foot and took off. She almost didn’t care if someone saw. Almost.

Her nightly flights started to last longer. At first it had only been an hour maybe two. Then it steadily increased until she was flying 6-8 hours each night. When she finally made it home, she would be exhausted, and would pass out. Sometimes she wouldn’t make it to the bed. Sometimes, she would wake up with her wings draped over her.

It was all she could do about the situation. She couldn’t allow herself to have feelings for him, so she stuffed them all down and flew them into the ground. She was almost thankful when the team got another case. She loved being around Spencer, but it was also fueling her energy.

The next case came only week later, but this time they weren’t needed until 9 am.

“This is much more reasonable,” she said, though she was still tired. She had only fallen asleep four or five hours before. Luckily, she had managed to put her wings away before she fell asleep last night. That would have been hard to explain.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

“Yeah… Just stayed up a little late.”

He nodded, and kept driving. She wanted to sleep, but she knew she would have to wait until they got to the Bureau.

She followed Spencer through the halls and through the center of the bullpen until they got to the conference room. She turned around immediately, ready to be walked to Garcia’s office, but Garcia wasn’t waiting outside.

“Elia, come in here.” Hotch called.

She carefully walked into the room, and all eyes were on her. Garcia was setting up the display monitor, and everyone else was sitting around a round table.

“What’s going on?” she asked, hesitantly. This room was off-limits to her, and she felt weird being inside. She looked to Spencer for clarification, but he gave her nothing, except that he was worried.

“We need to show you something, see if you know something about it that we don’t,” Hotch explained, “It is graphic, just to warn you. It involves a man being stabbed.”

“Um, okay. Sure. Show away.” She carefully sat down in an open chair by the door, still unsure of her presence in this room. Why did she need to see a murder?

Garcia started the footage. In it, a man was walking down a street. Elia couldn’t tell where. Suddenly, the man gasps in pain, and a knife appears, floating from behind him. The knife stabs the man many more times before the man falls to the ground. The knife then wipes itself on the man’s shirt and floats away.

Elia carefully studied each frame as it passed. When the knife had emerged, it clicked immediately. “The touch of Death,” she murmured.

“What?” Hotch asked.

Oh, Hotch didn’t know. Nobody but Spence knew. How could she tell them that she had also felt the touch of Death? She quickly looked to Spencer, and he was as nervous as she was, spinning his pen between his fingers.

“I said, ‘the touch of Death.’ A few weeks ago, I was spoken to by a voice. The voice I heard after I got my wings. It-”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan interrupted, “Voice? What voice?”

“Oh, uh, well, my wings came when I said I would do anything for freedom. A voice said ‘DONE’ and then the wings grew.” Her eyes fell to her lap.

“That was something you should have mentioned,” Hotch said, stern look perched on his face.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Both Emily and Spencer had known, but she didn’t want to get them in trouble for not telling Hotch.

“Actually, Hotch, she told us that in the hospital. Reid and me. We decided it wasn’t relevant. Whatever intention the wings were given with, she doesn’t use them maliciously,” Emily corrected.

“Exactly,” Spencer added, “We didn’t want a prejudice to put her in a worse position.”

Elia looked up at the shocked faces at the table, and the resolute ones of Emily and Spencer. She would have taken all the blame, but she appreciated their support.

Hotch frowned, deepening the stern look of his face. “It is important that we know everything about her unique situation. I understand you wanted to protect her, and I can see why that information might have… affected our decision making, but I really need to know.”

“Of course, Hotch,” Spencer said, “Won’t happen again.”

Elia really hoped that last part wasn’t true. What would Hotch think of all their secrets?

“Alright, Elia, please continue.” His face softened when he turned to face her again.

“Well a few weeks ago, the night I moved into Spencer’s apartment, the voice returned. It told me that it was Death, and it had given me the ‘gift’. Apparently I was close to death, but my plea was so desperate that it gave me my wings. I don’t know for sure, but I think there is a person holding the knife who is also death-touched. Someone who almost died and said they would do anything to be invisible or something.” As she said it out loud, she knew it was true. She could feel it in her gut.

The entire table went silent. She waited for someone, anyone to say something.

“You almost died?” Garcia finally asked.

“I guess so? I don’t know. I mean, a voice that echoes in my head isn’t necessarily reliable, but I believe it. The wings came from somewhere.”

“Does everyone who is close to death get this option?” Emily asked.

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe? It told me that not everyone is willing to do anything. Maybe that is the requirement? They have to be willing to pay the price.” Elia shrugged.

“What price?” Morgan demanded.

Her hand clutched her abdomen, an empty place. For a moment, she saw herself holding a child. They had her hair and Spencer’s eyes and their smile filled their entire face, just like his did. She shook her head, as if she could shake the image out. Her brain was truly cruel. “It said, ‘To give life to those wings, you can no longer give life to anything else.’ So, no children, I guess.”

“Oh,” Morgan said somberly. What price did he think she had paid?

“Why didn’t you tell any of us before,” Hotch asked gently.

Before Spencer could clarify and get in more trouble, she said, “I didn’t know how to handle the knowledge. It was a lot to take in, and it doesn’t make my case much better. Besides, would you have believed me?”

No one answered that. Finally, Hotch said, “So, you can tell there is a person there who has been touched by Death?”

“Yes,” she replied, before she could think. She could feel it. She hadn’t seen many people since she had moved into Spencer’s apartment. There was really no way to test, and she didn’t know how common it was.

“So that means this person might see it in you as well?”

“I don’t know, maybe? It’s not like they give an instructional guide.” She had no idea where this line of questioning was going.

“Elia, can you wait outside for a moment. The team and I need to discuss something.” Hotch stood and opened the door for her.

“Yeah, sure…” She walked out the door and wandered down to the bullpen. She sat at the first desk she came across and waited. After a few minutes, she realized it was Spencer’s desk. She was debating whether or not she should choose a different desk when Hotch called her back in.

Spencer looked irritated, but his face softened when he looked at her. He mouthed, “I’m sorry” to her.

“Alright, Elia,” Hotch began, “We wouldn’t normally do something like this, but we need your help. If you can sense this person, we need you to come with us. It is hard enough to find a serial killer without them being invisible.”

Elia sat there, stunned and unable to speak. They wanted her to come? They wanted her in the field finding a serial killer? Had Spencer fought against this? Is that why he was irritated?

After several seconds she managed to ask, “What would you need me to do…?”

“We don’t want you to be in danger,” Hotch said, “We are just going to bring you with us to New York. Your knowledge might be enough. If not, we will have armed agents escort you, and hope it flushes him out. We don’t want to do that, of course, but we don’t know another way.”

“Don’t worry, Elia, we will make sure you are safe,” JJ added.

“This is voluntary. It is up to you,” Hotch concluded.

Elia looked around the room at all the agents faces. She knew they would do everything in their power to protect her, especially Spencer. Honestly, she was excited by the idea. Not only would she get to go out and do something, but she would be contributing. She knew it might be dangerous, but she was strong now, powerful. She could handle it. Right?

Right. “I can’t promise that I will be helpful, but I will try.”

“Elia, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer said. His face was creased with worry. “We’ll find them, somehow.”

“It’s okay, Spencer. This person can kill until you get close, escape, and never be seen or heard from again. They could travel the world, killing people, and never get caught. I want to stop them.”

“Good. Thank you, Elia. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch looked genuinely pleased, and she wondered if he might let her get away with not telling him about Death.

As everyone left the room, Hotch pulled her aside. “We need to talk.”


	25. Hotch's Concerns

As the agents were getting ready to go on the plane, Elia stayed in the conference room with Hotch.

“You have withheld critical information from us. The first time, I do not blame you for, but the second time, I do. We need to be able to trust you, and if keep secrets, we can’t. Is there anything else?”

Elia couldn’t meet Hotch’s stern gaze. There was a lot more. She was terrified to tell him, but what if he found out later? He seemed to be giving her amnesty. “I fly almost every night. If I don’t, my back itches and twists. It gets really irritating. I’ve found that my mood is more stable if I go out nightly as well.”

“I had suspected something like that. When you were shifting in the garage, it definitely wasn’t your second time. Does Reid know?”

“Um, yes… He caught me a little while ago. I made him swear not to tell you. I was afraid what you would do…”

Hotch sat in front of her. bringing her to eye level. “I understand why you might be afraid of me, but I am not here to hurt you. I hope you would have realized that by now. We need to know these things. I think it is good you’re are flying. You have been noticeably calmer. Garcia noticed how antsy you got during the last case, by the way. It is good practice; you are getting better at it. If I had known, I would have been less reluctant to suggest this. I think you are ready to test it.”

She nodded, completely surprised.

“Is there anything else?”

“Spencer has been truly wonderful. I’m sorry that I made him keep these things from you. He has supported me a lot.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”

“Yes. That’s all.” She didn’t feel like she was lying. An almost kiss was nothing, and her feelings were her own. Hotch didn’t need to know them.

Hotch studied her carefully, and she wondered what it would be like to work here, surrounded by profilers. She was lucky that Spencer didn’t feel the need to do this to her. She was sure he would see right through her and know right away what she was thinking.

Finally, Hotch said, “Alright, thank you for letting me know. Let’s get on the jet.”

She followed him out of the conference room and down to the bullpen. Spencer was packing on his desk, so she went to him, habit keeping her close to him.

“Hey, Spencer.”

“Hey, Elia.” He leaned into his bag, which brought him closer to her, and whispered, “What was that about?”

“I had to tell him about the flying at night. He had partially figured it out. He was actually supportive of the idea. I feel a little silly hiding it now, especially since I dragged you along.”

“Did you tell him about the other thing?” Spencer asked, still packing.

“What other thing?” She wracked her brain, but all she could think of was the almost kiss. They had never talked about it, and as far as she knew, he hadn’t noticed.

“The history thing? The feelings we discussed after I found out you were flying?”

“Oh! Right, that… Um, no. I didn’t tell him about that. I don’t think that he needs to know.”

“I don’t know if he needs to know either. It is hard to tell. Wait, what thing were you thinking about?”

“Oh, uh, well I thought those were all the secrets we had. I had forgotten, and was worried it was something worse,” she stammered.

Spencer looked up from packing. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. Well I gotta get ready for the flight, bye.” She spun on her heel and walked away.


	26. Discussing the Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, death mention,

Elia was stunned by the jet. She had never been inside a plane with so much room. She decided not to sit next to Spencer, instead opting for the seats with Emily and JJ. There was a case to work on, and he would distract her.

Garcia stayed had stayed behind to work her magic. She had hugged Elia goodbye and wished her good luck on her first case, insinuating that it might not be the last. Now, Garcia was up on the video monitors describing the case to them. Elia waved at her, and Garcia waved back.

“So, five men have all been stabbed to death, by what appears to be a floating knife in New York City. All five died before anyone could stop the knife, or person behind it. Many of the crime scenes don’t have witnesses at all, actually. The public is panicking. People are shouting all kinds of things: ghosts, aliens, government tech, you name it.”

“Thanks, baby girl,” Morgan said.

Elia leaned over to JJ and whispered, “Can I borrow your tablet?”

JJ slid it over to Elia in reply.

Elia opened it and started going through the case notes. Each murder was on video, and she watched each of them. In each one, the first stab was in the back, and the subsequent ones were in the front. Each victim seemed to be braced against something as they were stabbed over and over again. At the end, when the victim fell, she noticed that the knife wiggled in the air before exiting. She hadn’t noticed that before.

“Hey, Emily?”

“Yeah, Elia?” Emily replied.

“Look at this.” Elia put the tablet in front of Emily and pointed out the wiggling knife to her.

“Huh, I didn’t notice that. Why are they doing that?”

Elia pursed her lips and pressed her knuckles into them, then quickly pulled her fingers away. That was a Spencer gesture. “I think they are waving? Hmm… Every single crime scene is right in front of a camera too…”

“So, they want attention,” Rossi asked

“If they are a person who is invisible, they might be trying for attention or panic. Maybe someone knows who they are and it is for them? But they definitely seem to be seeking attention,” Spencer said over Elia’s shoulder. His presence hadn’t made her jump, even though she hadn’t known he was there. Interesting.

“Nice catch, Elia. Reid, I need you to do a geographical map of all the murder sites, and see where there are cameras in that area. He doesn’t seem to hit the same one twice, so that might make it easier to find him.” Hotch delegated.

“Also, it looks like the victim is being held up by someone. Look at the way their body is. They are slumped against something as they get their final stabs.”

Spencer leaned in closer. She stilled herself, trying not to react. “That is intriguing. I wonder what that means. Maybe the autopsy will tell us something.”

She spent the rest of the flight pouring over the case files and information. She wanted to be useful. The camera footage went on longer than the murders, she found, so she watched them. Before the footage of the fourth murder, she felt the person on screen. She felt a feeling in her gut, and knew they were standing there. They stood there for about only a few seconds, then left.

She reported her findings to Hotch. The screen looked empty, but she could feel them there. “I think they are surveilling the scene. Testing the waters to see who is around and what the camera angle is like. I don’t know if they did it for the other scenes, but I found it here.”

Hotch studied the empty street, as if he could gather information from it. “You sure they are there?”

“Yes.”

“Reid, how is the map coming?”

Spencer was gently biting his tongue at a paper map on the table. It was covered with marks and lines. “I see a pattern, but their area is rather large. Might be hard to narrow down. There are 4,176 cameras in lower Manhattan alone.”

“Never tell me the odds,” she replied laughing, “We’ll figure it out.”

Spencer’s head bounced up, “Star Wars?”

“Of course.”

He smiled and went back to the map.

\---

When they landed in New York, it was down to work immediately. Rossi and Morgan went to the last crime scene, Reid and Emily went to the morgue, and JJ, Hotch, and Elia went to set up at the police station.

Elia busied herself on a board, spreading the files across the board. She was trying to see a pattern, to be useful. She didn’t think they would actually let her go out and find this person. When her board was covered and organized, she stepped back. Nothing popped out.

Spencer and Emily got back from the morgue just after Elia finished her board. They joined her in examining it.

“See anything?” Emily asked

Elia put a finger to her lips absentmindedly. “No. I can’t see anything new.”

“The morgue proved your theory, though,” Spencer said from behind her. For a moment she wanted to lean against him. The thought gripped her so intensely that she had to move. She dropped her hand and walked away from board.

“Which theory?” Elia busied herself with some other case information, details about the victims.

“The stab in each of the victim’s backs was meant to incapacitate them. It went straight into one of their kidneys. It seems like the unsub stabbed them, walked in front of them, caught them as they fell, and then stabbed them each four to eight more times before letting them drop. This is a form of blitzing.”

“But the unsub is invisible,” Emily commented, “Why does he need to blitz them?”

Everything clicked into place, and Elia understood. “Oh!” she said “Oh my god, of course. The unsub was touched by death! They are probably scared of Death! Death told me the price I paid because I asked, but it also said ‘three souls for one is a good deal.’ What if the unsub was told the same thing, but doesn’t know that isn’t the price?”

“Then the unsub would kill people, trying to appease Death, but would do everything they could to prevent dying,” Spencer finished.

“I have to meet them! I can explain that the price is something else, or that it probably is.”

“No!” Spencer blurted, “No, there has to be another way.”

Emily gave him a considering look, and said, “Let’s talk to Hotch about it.”

By the time they finished explaining their discoveries to Hotch, Morgan and Rossi returned from the crime scene. They had nothing new to add. Despite the surveillance, there weren’t any witnesses, and there was no useful evidence at the scene.

After considering everything carefully, Hotch said, “I think it would be best if the unsub found Elia. It might be dangerous, but if she can get through to him, that would make it easier. And I don’t know of any other way to find him.”

"Elia can sense him surveillance! Can't she watch out for him?" Spencer argued.

"That could take days, Reid," Hotch said, "If you were the one who could sense him, maybe, but she can't watch through it as fast as you can."

Spencer looked like he was going to argue, but Elia didn’t think he could think of anything else. After opening and closing his mouth a few times, he relented. She wondered why he was so against this.

They decided to send Morgan, Spencer, and Elia out, no vests, but with Morgan and Spencer armed. The rest of the team would be close by to lend a hand. Spencer insisted on going if she was going into the field, and Elia was happy to have him along.

As they were getting ready, Spencer pulled her aside and said, “You know, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I want to. I want to help, and I want to stop this man. I don’t think you can do it without me.”

“I wish that weren’t true.” He shuffled in place for a minute, as if unsure what to do, and settled for putting a hand on her shoulder.

With that, they went out into the city.


	27. He's Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Capture, injury, violence

Elia felt weird walking into a probable trap with no weapons. Her wings could be counted as a weapon, but they were more protective than defensive. She had never managed to attack anyone with the showy claws.

The team had planned a specific route, trying to hit the most security cameras that they could. The route was one way. If the unsub didn’t show, they would be picked up and driven back to the station. It made them able to cover more ground.

Spencer and Morgan flanked her through the streets, one either side of her. She was caught between uncomfortable with their closeness and a desire for them to be closer. Every few steps, her back would flutter. The anxiety about the situation was a constant thread tightening around her gut, but she had to show she could do this. This was definitely a test of her control and ability.

“We look really conspicuous like this, you know,” she whispered to her guards, “Look a little less like an escort, and let’s have a conversation. Make us walking around New York look natural, alright?”

“Fair enough,” Morgan said, shifting a step away and relaxing his stance, “So, have you and pretty boy made use of living together?”

Spencer stopped for a beat. He quickly caught up with his long legs, but he was blushing. Morgan grinned, as if he had found their secret out.

“Of course not, Morgan. That’s highly inappropriate to suggest. Spencer has been a perfect gentleman. This isn’t the kind of conversation I was referring to.” Elia hissed between her teeth. Louder, she said, “So, Derek, what have you been doing with your free time?”

Morgan grinned and winked, but replied chastely. “I have been renovating this huge apartment complex I just bought. Bit of a fixer-upper, but I think I can make her beautiful again.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you bought apartment buildings.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, sugar.”

Elia made a face at the pet name. “I’m sure you’re an open book, Morgan.”

His smile fell a little. “Not as much as you would think.”

Her hand found his shoulder, partially for comfort and partially for leverage. She pulled herself to his ear, and whispered, “I know all about defense mechanisms. I’m sorry for pushing.”

Morgan’s eyes went wide, and Elia wondered if there was more meaning to what she said for him. She didn’t add anything. What could she say to a person who worked with profilers?

Spencer could not have heard what Elia said to Morgan. He looked like he was debating whether or not to ask when Elia felt it.

“The unsub is here,” she murmured.

Before anyone could react, the air in Morgan’s lungs rushed out in a loud rasp. Elia turned in time to see his head fly sideways. He collapsed on the ground, out cold. Elia tried to feel where the unsub was, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t point.

Spencer was listening carefully, trying to find footfalls, when he got hit in the stomach. He doubled over, and collapsed, groaning in pain.

“Spencer?!” She attacked the empty air where he fell. She heard laughter behind her.

A sharp pain sliced into her back. The pain was immense, but she could still move. He hadn’t hit her kidney. Strong arms gripped her legs, and she was pulled away. As she was dragged away bleeding, Spencer wheezed, “Release your wings!”

But she couldn’t, the panic was there, but being dragged was interrupting the process. Her body was humming with fear, and she felt like she was going to burst.

She was helpless as the unsub dragged her away from the damaged bodies of her defenders.


	28. Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence, torture, blood, death, murder

The unsub pulled her into a vacant warehouse. It looked like an abandoned construction site. Slag heaps filled the room, piles of shattered concrete and rebar sticking out at odd angles. One side of the warehouse had collapsed. A new wave of panic rode over her. She couldn’t die in a warehouse. She wouldn’t allow it.

The unsub dropped her unceremoniously on the ground, and she hit the ground like a sack of bricks. Now free from being dragged, she felt the panic gather in her shoulders.

“Welcome to my lair” a man said, voice echoing in the huge room, “Something about you feels special, but I can’t see it.”

She didn’t have time to reply before her back split. She allowed herself to express every piece of the pain, her screams tearing through the room like the wings on her back. She let herself writhe and look piteous. He had to know her pain; maybe he would listen then.

The change came quicker than usual, the excess panic shoving the wings out. As her back stitched itself up, she could feel the pain lessening where he had stabbed her. She managed not to pass out. What would he have done to her if she had? When it was over, she stood shakily. Her wings spread out menacingly, as if to make a point.

“Ah, I see. You can turn yours on and off. Mine is permanent.”

“What’s your name?” she asked, trying to fill her voice with compassion. His voice was made of fury, and she wanted to calm him down. That was the only way she could do this.

“Jacob.”

“Nice to meet you, Jacob. My name is Elia. I was also touched by Death.”

“I kind of figured that out. But wings? How effective are they?”

“Effective enough.”

“Well, I saw you with those FBI agents. I’m assuming you are here to stop me? You can try.” She could hear the grin in his voice.

“I want to help you stop killing. You don’t need to pay Death in souls. Death told me that I had done well when I killed three people, but that isn’t the price.”

Jacob was silent for a moment. “I know that isn’t the price, I like killing.”

Elia didn’t know how to respond to that. The thought of killing someone filled her with dread. How could she stop him if he liked it? “Why take me?”

“I wanted to see why you felt special. Now I know.”

“Did Death talk to you after you became invisible?”

“Yeah, that asshole asked if I liked my ‘gift?’ What the hell? It’s a curse. I didn’t want this.”

“I understand that.”

“No, you don’t,” Jacob grunted, suddenly closer. He grabbed her right wing roughly and yanked. “Your wings can be hidden. You can control them. I am invisible forever!”

She winced. The joints were surprisingly sensitive. “They are huge and cumbersome! It hurts every time they come out, or when they go back in! Did you not see my back peel open? Do you not see the blood? Besides, they only go back in if I feel safe. Maybe if you were in a safe place, you would become visible again.”

He pulled down on her wing, and she tumbled sideways a step. “It’s too late for that now. I’ll never feel safe.”

Her wing spasmed against his touch, trying to escape the pain. “The FBI could help you! They helped me.”

He walked behind her, heavy footsteps taunting her. She lashed out, but missed. He gripped her other wing and yanked both, and she landed on her butt. She squirmed, trying to get away, but he just yanked backward, harder. He let go at the last second, and she hit the concrete. Her wings cushioned her fall, but the joints where they met with her skin was in agony.

“Please!” she begged, “Let us help you! The team is very understanding! They found me in the center of three murders!” As she said it, she knew they wouldn’t help him. He had killed maliciously, not out of self-defense. She didn’t know how they would feel about him hurting her either. She lied through her teeth anyway, hoping that he would listen.

“I wonder if I could pull them off like butterfly wings?” he mused, completely ignoring what she said. With that, he grabbed her left wing and placed a shoe on her shoulder. He threw his whole weight into pulling it, and she cried out, flailing uselessly.

Her right wing was hurt, but it lifted itself and slashed at the air. One of the talons caught him and she heard him shriek. He dropped her left wing.

“You stupid bitch!” He growled. His shoe connected with her ribs. She gasped and rolled away.

He switched sides, and pulled the right wing as punishment. Stars danced in her eyes, and she struggled to free herself. The left wing tried to hit him, but he dodged. She hadn’t expected it to hit him; it was in pain and half trapped under her.

He rolled her on to her back and sat on her hips. “That fucking hurt.” A knife was floating above her now, and she felt stupid for not keeping track of it. He drove it into her left shoulder, and she screamed. He pulled the blade out, and cut a line around her shoulder, before jabbing it back in the wound.

“If you hadn’t healed, this would have been over so much faster,” he hissed in her ear.

She grabbed the handle of the knife, and pulled it out of her, wincing. Before he could react, she stabbed at the air. It connected and his weight shifted. She shoved him off her and rolled away. The knife twitched just above the floor, and she pulled it out. Using her hands to feel for it, she found his neck and sliced it open. 

A man materialized in front of her. He was completely nude, with dark brown hair and empty brown eyes. His skin was sickly pale, like the sun couldn’t see him, and there was blood oozing from his throat.

She curled up on the ground, shaking. That was the fourth man she had killed, and she hated it. Her wings enveloped her, but the pain made it less calming that it could have been. What could she do now? She thought of what she had said to the invisible man, her lie. Would the FBI think of her as a murderer now? Would this be the last straw?


	29. Unexpected Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: blood, pain, death mention

When Spencer arrived ten minutes later, he found her sitting on the floor, knees held tight to her chest, with her wings drawn in snugly around her. She had been crying, and a dead man was bleeding out on the floor.

When she saw him, she stood. She couldn’t decide whether to bolt or run to him.

He strode over to her and wrapped his arms around her. She fell into the hug, holding him close to her body. Tears spilled anew, and she shook with sobs. He pulled her closer to him. Him being here made everything better and worse.

“Spencer, I killed him. I killed again. I don’t want to kill again.”

He gently shushed her. “It’s alright, Elia. It’s alright. He kidnapped you and stabbed you. You had to defend yourself.”

“Are you okay?” she asked his chest.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just got the wind knocked out of me; I’ll be fine.”

She squeezed him a little harder, happy he was here and happy he was okay. She didn’t want to let go. Spencer had come into her hell and gathered her up. She was worried he was the only thing holding her together. She clung to him for a long time, savoring the feeling of his arms around her. She only let go when she heard noise from outside. Spencer took a step away from her.

Hotch walked in, gun raised, followed by Rossi, Emily, and JJ. As soon as they saw the scene, they all put their guns away.

“What happened?” Emily asked.

“He was bitter that I had control over my gift.” Her wings felt massive and unwieldy. Their weight was aggravating the pain in the joints, and she cringed.

“Are you alright?” JJ asked.

“No,” she whispered.

“Can I take a look?” Spencer took a step toward her, and she noticed the blood on his shirt.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Can I, uh, lift your shirt?”

She realized she was holding her ribs. “Oh, yeah.”

His hands were gentle as he raised the fabric, careful not to lift too high. There was a blossoming bruise purpling her abdomen. As he examined, he listed the wounds out loud. “Bruised ribs, laceration and penetration wounds on shoulder.” He walked behind her. “Did he hurt your wings?”

“Yes. He… He tried to pull them off.” Her wings shivered at the memory, and she gasped in pain.

“Ouch…” Rossi commented.

“Elia, we need to get you to a hospital,” Spencer said quietly.

“No! No, I can’t. I don’t want to go back.” This was a painful deja vu. The agents weren’t scary this time, but it was all too much. “Is Morgan okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine,” Hotch said, “But you are not. You need to go to the hospital, Elia.”

“No, please, I can’t!”

“Can you pull them back in?” Spencer asked, “That might make the hospital unnecessary.”

She groaned and tried to stretch them, but they spasmed. Fuck. The pain was too distracting, and she couldn’t concentrate. Double fuck. She felt herself start shaking. As she trembled, everything hurt. “I don’t know…”

“Do you want to be left alone?” Hotch asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she murmured. In her current state, she didn’t think she could shift with an audience.

Hotch nodded, and everyone filed out behind him. JJ and Emily gave her one last encouraging look before slipping out. Spencer stayed by her side, and the team didn’t question it.


	30. Tenderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic depictions of violence, blood

Spencer examined her wings again. “Where exactly does it hurt?” He couldn’t see any inflammation, but that might be because of all the scar tissue. It was hard to tell.

“I think he pulled something, the anchoring points.” She gestured to the spot, and winced.

“Can I help?”

“How?”

“Well, you have been using me as way to put them back, right? It might… I mean, maybe they would go back easier if… I could help.”

“How could you help?” she asked. She studied his face skeptically, but she looked like she was really considering it.

“I don’t know… Did holding your hand help in the garage?”

“Um, yes, yes it did…”

He didn’t know how to suggest what he was thinking. It seemed highly inappropriate, especially with the conversation with Hotch and the almost kiss (Was it an almost kiss? Or was it wishful thinking?).

“What were you thinking about, Spencer?” she asked, like she was afraid of the answer.

“I could just sit next you, and you can decide what you need. Maybe my voice? Or…” He trailed off. He really believed that something tactile would help center her, but how could he suggest that to her?

Her lips pursed as she considered, but she said, “Alright.” She lay down on a clearer patch of the ground, avoiding the concrete dust.

He gently sat in front of her, trying not to move quickly. He crossed his long legs, and leaned forward, both arms ready for her. She grabbed them both without hesitation. Her grip was tight, and it almost hurt, but he said nothing.

Her face contorted with the effort, but she couldn’t seem to do it. They were too sore, and she was shaking slightly.

Spencer leaned and whispered, “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe now.” After a moment, he laid a gentle kiss on her forehead. That kiss caused her back to arch, and the change began.

Her wings vibrated behind her and tore their way back inside. She pulled at his arms, but he held himself rigid. She ended up pulling herself into his lap. Her body writhed in pain, and it seemed to be fighting the change. It took longer than it had before, and he could see her fighting the urge to scream. He wanted to tell her to let it out, but was afraid to disturb the process.

The healing was slower as well. It looked torturous as her back slowly stitched itself. He worried she might not heal all the way, but after many agonizing minutes, it finished healing. When it was over, she collapsed into his lap, exhausted and sore. The bleeding stab wound on her shoulder was scabbed over, the slice was a faint line, and the bruise had shrunk and became lighter.

She curled up into his lap, letting go of his arms so she could tuck herself into him. He ran his fingers across her hair, hoping to soothe her. She pressed herself closer to him as he pet her, almost snuggling him. It seemed like he was helping, so he continued.

He was happy to hold her, to feel her soft hair against his fingertips. He wanted to wrap his arms around her again. He wanted cuddle with her. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered helping her this way before.

She seemed to be enjoying herself, then her eyes shot open.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, pulling away.

“No, it’s alright. Did it help?” He tried to control his face so it didn’t show the longing he felt as she removed herself.

She pushed herself off the ground and stood. Her legs were still a little shaky, and he held out a hand to steady her. She took it, and looked him right in the eyes. “Yes, it did.”

She rolled her shoulders and winced. He wondered if the pulled muscles had healed at all, but didn’t ask. She would be okay now, or at least okay enough that she didn’t need a hospital.

“I’m sorry I bled all over you,” she whispered as they exited the warehouse.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to prevent bleeding,” He replied. “Can I examine your wounds, see how they are healing?”

She nodded, and gingerly lifted her shirt. The stab wound in her back was more healed than the one on her shoulder. Her wounds were still a little more severe than he would like, but she wouldn’t need the hospital.

After he finished his exam, he led her out of the warehouse. The rest of the team was outside, waiting for them.

“How are you feeling?” Emily asked.

“Better,” she said, her voice strained. It didn’t sound very convincing.

“You should still go to a hospital,” Hotch urged.

“I’ll be okay.”

“Our girl is a strong one,” Rossi said, smiling.

She scanned the supportive faces around her. Spencer could tell she hadn’t been expecting this. She had killed unsub, but that sometimes happens. Besides the throat wound, the unsub had only two other wounds, a laceration across his right hip and a gash in his shoulder. This was a clear case of self-defense, even if she couldn’t see it.

“Rossi, Emily, go examine the body and wait for the coroner. See if Garcia can ID him. JJ, Reid, Elia, you and I will finish up at the station,” Hotch said.

“Is Morgan in the hospital? Can we visit?” Elia asked.

“Of course,” Hotch said.

Spencer was surprised she wanted to see Morgan in the hospital after adamantly refusing to go for herself, but said nothing.

They all piled into one of the Bureau vehicles, with her and Spencer in the back. Spencer gently took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. She squeezed it slightly and smiled.


	31. Healing and Celebration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: death mention, bruise

Morgan was lying in a hospital bed, wide awake. “Look, guys, I’m fine!”

“You were knocked out. You might have a concussion,” Hotch said firmly.

“Elia looks way worse off than me, and she isn’t in a bed!”

“Elia probably doesn’t have a concussion.”

Morgan crossed his arms, frustrated.

“I’m sorry the unsub hurt you,” Elia said, and she truly was. Morgan didn’t ask for this. Neither had Spencer, but they had sort of come to that arrangement already.

Morgan let his frustration slip away, his normal easy smile returning. “It’s alright, Madam Dragon. He did quite a number on you. I’m more sorry I couldn’t keep you safe.”

“Yeah, he did a number on me, but you should see him.” She laughed, but it was forced. She could see the man’s face still, horror, confusion and blood. She rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the aching, but it didn’t help.

“Yeah, I heard you got him!”

She frowned. “I tried to convince him that the Bureau would help, but he didn’t believe me. I still feel like he could have become visible if he wasn’t scared. The only thing that made me realize I could do it was… Well, you know. But anyway, he is visible now. He got his wish.”

She wondered what would have happened if they hadn’t found her and helped her. Spencer looked like he was wondering the same thing.

“You did the best you could. That’s the hardest part of this job,” Morgan said.

“It is,” Spencer agreed.

Morgan’s injuries weren’t as severe as they initially thought. He didn’t have a concussion, but he definitely had some bruising on his ribs. Nothing serious enough to force a hospital stay, though. They wanted to keep him, but Morgan refused.

Spencer didn’t see a doctor at all, and Elia worried about him. She knew he had only been hit once, but it still had to be painful.

After Morgan was released, they all headed back to the station to finish up. Garcia had ID’d the man as a Jacob Malak. He had been reported missing four and a half months before by his job, and no one knew what happened to him. His estranged sister was notified of his passing.

As they got onto the jet, Elia pulled Spencer aside. “Honestly, are you alright? I saw you get hit. It looked pretty hard.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Spencer smiled at her, but she didn’t believe it.

“Let me see.”

“Honestly, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

“If you don’t let me see, I will make you see a doctor. So, please?”

Spencer begrudgingly untucked his shirt and lifted it. A fist-sized bruise painted his abdomen, just below his ribs. It didn’t look life-threatening, but it looked like it hurt.

“You have to ice it, at least,” Elia said.

“I will, but I don’t want them to worry. We’ll be home in a few hours.”

Elia pushed past him into the jet. There was a mini fridge with a freezer just before the cockpit, and she pulled out a thin ice pack, wrapping it with a towel. His shirt had been settled around his body again. She lifted it and gingerly pressed the pack against his wound. He drew a breath through his teeth.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s just a little cold.”

“That’s the point. Hide it under your shirt if you need to, but use it. Keep it on for 20 minutes, then excuse yourself to the bathroom and take it off. If you don’t ice it, I will tell the team.”

He begrudgingly situated the ice pack against his abdomen, retucking in his shirt. The bulge was barely noticeable under the shirt and vest. As she went to find a seat, he whispered, “Thank you.”

The flight was uneventful. She sat in a window seat (with a plastic cover on it) and watched the world below. Flying this high was impossible without a plane, and she liked looking out the window, seeing the world from impossible heights. She felt Spencer’s eyes on her as she shifted in her seat, trying to work the tightness out of her shoulders.

Twenty minutes into the flight, he excused himself. When he returned, his shirt fell flat against his stomach. She smiled at him, and he eyed her, studying her. She wondered what he was seeing, or what he was trying to see.

In D.C., Hotch took everyone out for a celebratory pizza. Hotch was sure to tell her how proud she was at handling the situation, and thanked her for her help. “I want this to be a one-time thing, especially since you got hurt, but if someone else is death touched, I would appreciate your assistance again,” he finished.

Everyone congratulated her during the meal. With each word of praise, she felt less bad about the man’s life she had taken. She still wished for an alternative, but as time passed, she saw that there wasn’t one. The guilt almost faded away. Almost.

The fear still haunted her, though. What if she became a murderer? What if she grew to enjoy it like Jacob had? What if murder continued to be the only solution? She tried to shake these thoughts from her mind, but she couldn’t.


	32. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW; scars

Spencer and Elia got back to the house, full and relatively happy. Her shoulders and back had started to spasm at the pizza place, but she tried to ignore it. It wasn’t the pressing of her wings wanting to emerge. It felt like her wing joints were hurting inside of her. She thought of it as a good reminder that though her wings were apparently bullet resistant, they weren’t indestructible.

Spencer had been eyeing her all night, and when they got inside, he finally asked, “Is your back sore?”

She shrugged, partially to stretch, and partially to answer. “I’ll be fine.”

“It didn’t heal when you shifted, just like the bullet wound. That healed at a normal rate, despite all your flights.”

She shrugged again, trying not to wince as a muscle tightened. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll sleep it off and be fine.” She was trying to play it off. He didn’t need to worry.

“You made me use an ice pack on the plane. The least I can do is pester you until you let me help you too,” he teased.

“How could you help?”

“Sometimes a pulled muscle can be relieved with careful massage...” He looked a little embarrassed.

“Massage?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah… I’m trying to… I just want to help, if I can. If… If you want.”

That sounded amazing to her. Every part of her wanted to say yes. Her back seemed to be tightening itself more to spite her, make the decision harder. She resisted her desire for a moment, before finally giving in. If it had been anyone but Spencer, she would have thought he was trying to start something.

“Um, sure. I think it could be helpful. Let me just take a quick shower.”

The warm water had helped loosen her a little, but she could feel the tightness waiting to return. She came out of her room fifteen minutes later, hair damp, in a backless tank top and a skirt. “So, uh, how do you want to- How do we do this?”

He sat on the couch and spread his legs. Her mouth fell open, eyes wide,

“Oh, no, no, no. Not like that! It’s a good position to work out the muscles. You’d be too low on the floor,” he clarified, words tumbling over each other.

She almost laughed. Of course he didn’t mean that. Spencer couldn’t mean that. He was Spencer. She carefully slid her butt between his thighs. She didn’t slide all the way up. Just because he was Spencer, didn’t mean she needed to tease.

He cleared his throat behind her, and started working. His hands were gentle, at first barely brushing her skin. She suddenly felt self-conscious of the gnarled scars that painted her back, and she pulled forward slightly. His hands dropped immediately, and she had to suppress a disappointed noise.

“Is this not okay, Elia?” he asked, spreading his legs further so she could slide out easily.

“It’s not that… I just… The scars are pretty ghastly.”

“They tell a story, Elia. They are a part of you, and they do not bother me at all.”

She shifted back towards him, and he resumed his gently brushing. After he was sure she was comfortable with his touch, he started to carefully press his thumbs in the divots on either side of her spine.

A moan almost escaped her, but she stifled it. There was no need to make this weird.

After he worked down and back up her spinal column, he moved to her shoulder blades, using the heel of his palms to spread the muscles on each side. Her muscles melted under his firm but gentle touch. He massaged her entire back, careful to avoid aggravating the stab wound, until the pain was gone. She said nothing, and he kept going.

He started to work on her shoulders and neck. He ran his knuckles down either side of her neck and across her shoulders. He worked his knuckles back up to her neck and dragged them down either side of her spine. When his thumbs started working at the base of her skull, a moan escaped her. She couldn’t contain it anymore.

She froze, but he didn’t stop. She allowed herself to relax again, thinking he hadn’t heard. He pressed his thumbs on either side of her spine again, a little harder, and another moan escaped her, louder this time. She could feel the heat climbing in her face, and she froze again.

He still said nothing, and continued the massage. She wondered what he thought about her noises, but she didn’t want the massage to stop. As she relaxed more into it, more pleased sounds escaped her, hums, groans, moans. She tried to hold some back, but her back felt so much better.

Finally, when he found a spot right above her tailbone that almost had her quivering. Her butt slid back into him, wiggling a little. It wasn’t on purpose, he had just found a good spot.

He squeaked in surprise.

She got up and turned in time to see a huge grin leaving his face. What was left was embarrassment and regret.

“I am so sorry,” he said, “I, uh, got carried away. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, but I shouldn’t have assumed. I won’t do it again. I wasn’t implying...” He closed his legs to emphasize his last point.

“I was enjoying myself.” She regretted saying it immediately and spun away from him, hand covering her mouth.

She heard shifting on the couch behind her, but he seemed to be afraid to stand. All she wanted was for him to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her into his lap. He would never do that without knowing that she wanted it, though. She was happy that he wouldn’t force it, but how could she ever tell him what she wanted?

She stood there, the silence building around them, filling the room. She was afraid to see his face, and he seemed to be glued to the couch.

Finally, Spencer whispered, “You were enjoying yourself?” It was so quiet, she could barely hear it or what emotion came with it.

“Yes,” She replied, almost as quietly.

He found the courage to stand, and murmured into her ear, “Would it be alright if I continued?”

“Yes.”

His fingertips brushed her back, tracing her scars deftly. He paused for several seconds, then wrapped his arms around her, pressing his face into her back.

“I was so worried,” he whispered into her back.

She leaned into him, savoring the moment. “I was worried too. Oh god Spencer, this is such a mess.”

“I know.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this…”

“I know,” he replied, forlorn. His arms slid from her body, and she wanted to stop him. 

She heard him start to walk away, heavy footsteps marking his escape. “Wait!” she called.

He stopped, and she walked in front of him. He started to speak, but she put a finger to his lips. “We shouldn’t be doing this, but I want to.” she kissed him, hesitantly. Her lips were barely pressed against his, because she was unsure if it was wanted.

When he didn’t react immediately, she worried. She was about to pull away, but he leaned into the kiss. His arms wound around her waist, and he pulled her into him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. Everything melted away in the kiss, and it was perfect. Spencer was kissing her.

After a moment, disconnected from her mouth, and held her, resting his chin on her head.

“Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest.

He blushed. “No, no, it’s not that. I… I just... ” He trailed off.

“I like you a lot Spencer...” she murmured, laying her head on his chest, “But if you don’t want- I mean, I don’t want to pressure you. I’m sorry.”

He stroked her hair, thinking for a moment. “I like you too, Elia. I just… We shouldn’t. I don’t know what to do…”

“You like me?” She asked, ignoring the rest.

“Can’t you tell? I’m not very subtle… I mean even Hotch picked up on something.”

“What?”

“Oh, uh, he asked if we were… Intimate.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I don’t expect us to ever be intimate. I didn’t even expect a kiss.”

“Do you want it though?”

He paused for a moment. “Maybe someday, if you are willing, when our situation is better. Right now, I am happy just holding you.” He gently squeezed her for emphasis.

“Me too.”


	33. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Death mention, torture, drug abuse, blood mention, Tobias Hankle

It felt wonderful to get his feelings for Elia off his chest. Spencer felt more content in her arms than he had in a long time. Her gentle embrace was everything he wanted in that moment, and the kiss had been fantastic.

He held her, breathing in the vanilla smell of her hair for a long time. Eventually, they separated, unsure what to do now. Their relationship had started unconventionally to say the least.

“Elia…” he started.

“I know, Spencer. We shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t allow this, but what is wrong with accepting comfort from each other? Friends hug. They, uh, they may not kiss, but…” she trailed off.

He appreciated that she was trying to find some justification. He was trying to as well. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with comfort. Maybe we should keep it to just that, though. I don’t want to take advantage of you living in my house.”

She pouted, slightly. “You’re right. So, comfort when we need it? At least for now?”

“Agreed.”

“Alright, well… I’m going to bed then.”

She hugged him one last time before heading to her room. He was happy to learn she wanted to hold him as much as he wanted to hold her.

He had wanted to kiss her one last time, but he had set the rules. He wished they had met another way, one where they could date and be in a normal relationship. But comfort was wonderful on its own. 

He went to bed smiling, serenity filling him.

\---

Later in the night, a nightmare gripped him. He dreamed of Tobias Hankle’s shed. That terrible chair beneath him, the ropes biting his wrists. Tobias came at him with a stick. He tried to squirm away from the torture, but couldn’t escape. He felt the rush of drugs into his system. His resistance fell as soon as they were offered. He dreamed of his death.

Then he heard someone call out his name. Elia? She was tied to a chair too, wings flailing around her uselessly. She watched him die, screaming and crying. He saw her struggling against her bindings to no avail, saying his name over and over.

When Tobias revived him, she was gone. He didn’t know if she knew he was alive. He freed himself and wandered the graveyard, trying to tell her, but he couldn’t find her. Tobias came up behind him and shot him while he was distracted.

Spencer woke as the bullet pierced him. His stomach flared in pain from the bullet before he remembered the bruise. His first thought was that he needed to check on Elia, but he didn’t want to wake her. He settled for a glass of water.

In the kitchen, he splashed water on his face, trying to clear Tobias from his mind. “Tobias Hankle is dead,” he whispered to himself. When the glass of water was filled, he could still hear water running in the house.

Spencer found Elia in the bathroom, door open. She was vigorously washing her hands in the sink.

“Elia?” he asked, trying not to startle her, “Are you alright?”

She shut the water off and leaned over the sink, staring at her very clean hands. Her long hair was in a messy bun that flopped in front of her face, and she was trembling slightly.

She turned to look at him, eyes bloodshot. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

He held his arms out, and she folded herself in his embrace. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Yeah. There was blood everywhere. I couldn’t wash the blood off my hands. They laughed at me, saying I was cursed. They said the whole world would know I am a murderer.” She pulled out of his embrace, scrutinizing him. “Wait, why are you awake?”

“I had a nightmare too…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He was unsure about sharing it with her, especially after her own nightmares. “Ummm…” he replied, unable to commit.

“If you are comfortable with it, you can tell me. I’m alright.”

So he did. He told her the story of Tobias Hankle and his other personalities, and how they had held him for days. He then described the nightmare to her. She listened carefully and patiently, maintaining eye contact. He felt better as he let it out, knowing that she had actually heard him.

When he finished his story, she hugged him protectively. “I’m okay,” she whispered, “and you are okay too.”

He said nothing, just happy with the support.

She pulled away once more, like she wasn’t sure if she could hold him. With her eyes glued to the ground, she asked, “Can I, uh, sleep next to you? Maybe it would help with the nightmares. No funny business, I promise.”

He cupped her chin gently and brought her face to his. “Of course.” He kissed her lightly, and her cheeks flushed. When he let go, she was grinning. He told himself that was for comfort only.

She followed him into his room, a room she had never seen, and waited. He climbed into bed and opened the blankets for her. She slid under the covers, keeping herself a few inches away from him.

“Do you, um… Do you want to… cuddle?” he asked hesitantly.

Without a word, she slid closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and she pulled it close to her. They fell into an untroubled sleep moments later. 

Neither had a nightmare for the rest of the night.


	34. Just Friends

Elia woke with an arm draped around her. She smiled to herself, remembering the night before. Spencer had a gentle grip on her, one she could easily escape from. Even in his sleep, he was wonderful.

She carefully settled herself, not wanting to wake him up. With her limited view, she took in the room she could barely see the night before. It was filled with huge bookshelves, like the rest of his apartment. The books on these shelves were more worn, and she assumed they were his favorites. His huge bed dominated the room, taking up most of the rest of the floor space. On the side of the bed she was on, there was a nightstand with a stack of books on it.

Spencer woke a few minutes later, groggy and a little confused. She was worried he wouldn’t remember why she was here, but he seemed pleased when he said, “Good morning, Elia.”

She slid herself a little closer to him. He responded with a gentle squeeze. His face was buried in the back of her neck, and his breath was tickling her a little. She never wanted to move.

“Good morning, Spencer. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Still a little sore, but I slept really well last night.” He paused for a few minutes, before adding. “Thank you.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?” she teased. They were friends, but he had kissed her. She wouldn’t push the issue, of course, but she was thrilled by the potential.

“Exactly,” he said, nuzzling her.

She had a sudden urge to press her ass against him, and wiggle, like she had done accidently last night. Instead, she forced herself to get out of bed. He lifted his arm as she started to pull away.

“Everything alright?” he asked. He looked vulnerable in the bed, worried he had gone too far. If only he knew where her mind was going.

“Everything is wonderful. I just need to go to the restroom.”

“Ah, of course.”

She splashed ice cold water on her face, trying to rid her mind of dirty thoughts. She would not push him. He was right; their position was precarious. They had to be careful, even if she didn’t want to be. 

For the first time, she felt no fear about going forward. Spencer would be wonderful, she knew it. He had never even tried to make her do something she didn’t want. That was a dream come true.

When she finished up and headed back to his room, she found him sitting on the bed. To reassure him (and because she wanted to), she walked right over to him, and enveloped him in a hug.

He angled his head so his face was pressed into her stomach rather than her breasts.

“Sorry, I didn’t consider that…”

“It’s alright,” he murmured, still sounding a little sleepy, “I wouldn’t have minded it either way.”

A giggle escaped her. “Me neither.”

Despite this, neither of them changed position until her stomach growled in his ear.

He laughed. “So, breakfast?”

As they cooked, they kept finding reasons to brush against each other. It was almost a game, tit for tat. It started with passing too close in the kitchen, then lead to “helping” each other stir. Finally, she dabbed pancake batter onto his nose.

He meant to dab her lips with batter, but she licked his finger clean instead. Heat kissed his cheeks immediately, and he turned his head away.

She took another dollop of batter, aiming for his cheek, but he turned at the last second. Her finger slipped between his lips, and he sucked on it gently. Her blush could rival his in brightness, and she spun around. What was she doing?

His arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her against his body. She relaxed against his torso, feeling at home. “We can’t be just friends now, can we?” he murmured into her ear.


	35. Pancakes

“We can’t be just friends now, can we?” he murmured into her ear.

“I don’t think so…” she whispered, “Sorry, Spencer. I ruined it.”

He placed a gently kiss behind her earlobe. “I’m glad you did.”

Her arm reached behind her and found his soft hair. She pressed slightly, and he obliged her with another kiss, a little lower on her neck.

She turned, but kept her eyes downcast. “If you need me to move out, I understand. I have the wings mostly under control, and I’m sure Garcia would love to have me.”

Spencer cupped her chin in his hand, and brought her face up to his. “If you want to go, you can. But I don’t want you to…”

“I don’t want to either…”

He leaned down and kissed her. She kissed him back, not hesitating for a moment. This encouraged him, and he kissed her deeper, his hand steadying her at the small of her back. Her fingers found his downy soft hair, and she ran them through it.

His free hand slid up her body until it found the base of her breast. She gasped into his lips, hoping to urge him on. Instead he stopped and pulled away. She let go, worried.

His breath was slightly ragged, his hair a mess, and his eyes held such desire. She wanted that desire to spill across her body, but waited. Clearly something was wrong.

“Sorry, Elia. I… didn’t intend to go so fast. You are enchanting, but I shouldn’t…”

“You shouldn’t, but you could…”

He looked conflicted. Desire was so clear on his face, but restraint was as well.

“We don’t have to do everything right now. There is plenty of time. Besides, we do need to finish breakfast,” she said.

He looked a little relieved. “You’re right, breakfast.”

They finished cooking in silence. She didn’t brush up against him, for fear that he would tense. He flipped pancakes while she cut fruits to cover them with. Her nipples were pressing against her shirt, with no bra to hide them.

His focus on the pancakes was intense, and her gaze focused on his lips. His tongue was between his teeth in concentration. She wanted that tongue on her nipples. She wanted it everywhere.

She shook her head and went back to cutting fruit.

The pancakes looked perfect. She piled her plate high with them, and piled it higher with fruit, butter, and syrup. Spencer did the same, and they sat across from each other at the table. She saw him look to her breasts once, eyes wide, but he quickly looked away.

“I’m sorry if I pushed,” she eventually whispered, after several minutes of silent eating.

“You’re sorry if you pushed?” he asked, incredulously, “I was the one with a hand on your… you.”

She giggled. “I started it though.”

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “You did… Is this truly what you want? Do you want… me?”

“Yes, I do. Very much so.”

“You really want me to do these things?”

“Yes, I do.”

“So, the noise you made when I touched… there, was good?”

She laughed. “Yes, Spencer, very good.”

“You’re sure I wouldn’t be taking advantage? I mean, you are my ward and all…”

“I’m sure.”

She watched Spencer finish his breakfast, lost in thought. She finished her breakfast in silence, waiting.

When he finished, he finally said, “What if I go too far?”

She saw real worry in those eyes, and it made her want to wrap him up in her arms and never let her go. Couldn’t he see how amazing he was? “I’ll tell you.”

“I don’t think I am ready for… that,” he said, embarrassed. His eyes stared a hole into his plate.

“Neither am I… Not yet, anyway. Spencer, I am worried about taking advantage of you too. You know that, right?”

His head shot up. “I didn’t know that.”

“So, we just have to be careful. Both us. But I know we can do it, if you want to. We already have been.”

He grinned, and it filled his whole face. “I want to.”


	36. Rude Interruption

Spencer had felt so terrible at breakfast. When his hand gently caressed her breast, he had become hard. Her noise was ambiguous to him, and he was worried she could feel his erection. It had faded as they continued to cook, but seeing her sitting there, nipples eager for him, brought it back.

But here she was, telling him she wanted more. He was uncertain of what to do. He knew what he wanted to do, but…

She stood, and walked over to him. Her arms wrapped around him, and pressed his face between her breasts. They were so soft. He buried his face into them, and she stroked his hair. His fears were erased as she held him like this. Her fingers were soft, gentle, and incredibly soothing.

“We should probably use a safe word or something,” he murmured against her sternum.

“Wings,” she replied.

“Wings?”

“They would stop pretty much anything, don’t you think?”

He grinned. “I think that they might.”

With her fingers still in his hair, he dared to kiss her sternum. He peeked up at her from between her breasts, and she was grinning wildly. He kissed her again, on the swell of her right breast. Instead of kissing across her breast, his kissed up. He softly brushed his lips on her collarbone, up her neck, and across her cheek to her mouth.

She pulled him into the kiss, up to standing. She tasted like syrup and strawberries. They walked themselves toward the couch, and a phone rang. Their lips parted, and each took a steadying breath before laughing.

Elia wandered through the house to get her phone. It was ringing in her bedroom, where she had left it last night. When she grabbed it, she walked back to the living room.

“Who is it?” Spencer asked.

“Hotch,” she replied, before answering. “Hello, Sir… Oh yes, I’m fine thanks for asking… Oh yeah, it healed pretty well. Still a little sore, but I’ll be fine… Spencer? Um, I’m not sure, you can ask him if you would like… Yeah sure, I’ll give him the phone…” She held the phone out to him, saying, “Hotch wants to check in.”

“Oh, alright. Thanks, Elia,” he said, “Hey, Hotch. Elia said you wanted to check in?”

“Yes, Reid. Just seeing how you are both doing after a particularly difficult case yesterday. Don’t think I forgot that you were hit in the stomach. How are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m doing well. I iced it some yesterday, and I was just about to ice it more. I slept well last night, which helped the healing, of course.”

“I see… Well, take care of yourself, alright? The whole team has got a few days off, and I want you both to rest.”

“Of course, Hotch. Thank you for your concern.”

“Good-bye, Reid.” The phone beeped to indicate the end of the call, but Spencer still had it pressed against his ear.

“Are you alright, Spencer?” Elia asked, sliding closer without touching him.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m fine…” He thought for a moment, then added, “If we do have sex, we need to tell him.”

She looked shocked, and Spencer wasn’t sure whether it was because he had said “sex,” or “tell him.”

“It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to get permission,” he added.

She grinned, and slid an arm around his waist. “Have I ever told you how much I like you, Doctor Reid?”

“It doesn’t hurt to remind me,” he teased.

\---

After the rude interruption of the phone call, things calmed down. Both wanted to continue where they left off, but were afraid of the implications. They settled for a relaxing cuddle in front of a movie.

Spencer suggested they watch Solaris, a movie Elia had never heard of. When Spencer explained the premise, she became interested, which surprised him. Using her laptop, she found a digital copy on amazon, and they watched it in Russian with subtitles on. Much to Spencer’s chagrin, they could not find the full version of the movie.

Spencer lay on the couch, and she lay on top of him. The ice pack between them served to cool both of their bruises. She lay her head on his chest, and he absent-mindedly ran his fingers through her hair.

When the movie was over, neither wanted to move, so Elia put on Hero, a 2002 movie about the attempted assassination of the king who tried to unite China. Spencer hadn’t heard of it, but she thought he would enjoy it for its aesthetic and storytelling style.

When Hero ended, the room was dark. Spencer had not relented in his gentle brushing of her hair.

“I have never felt more relaxed in my life,” Elia whispered.

“Neither have I,” Spencer replied, kissing her head.

Eventually, they had to stand. They were both hungry and needed to relieve themselves after not moving for nearly five hours. As Elia watched Spencer walk to the bathroom, lazily shaking his hair with his hand, she realized something. She loved him.


	37. Four Weeks Pass

The next four weeks followed a similar pattern. Spencer and Elia spent a lot of time wrapped around each other, kissing on occasion. They slept next to each other every night.

Her flights had scaled back to an hour or so after they started this closeness, and sometimes she wouldn’t fly at all. Spencer would help her shift when she went off, and read in her room while he waited for her to come back. When she slipped through the open window, he would help her shift back, get her to the shower, and help her get to bed. She thought asking him to join her in the water, but neither of them had seen the other naked. They dressed in separate rooms still.

They never went farther than kisses. Sometimes, when she was feeling daring, she would kiss down the line of his clothed chest, never going past the belly button. He would return the favor, kissing around her breast tissue, but never on it directly.

Elia didn’t tell Spencer that she loved him. She felt it was too soon to be true, but whenever she saw him lying next to her in the morning, her heart would swell. She would watch him sleep, relishing that she could. Whenever his grin split his face, or when he would hold her as she shifted, she would feel it again.

They felt that enough time had passed for her to come with him to work each day. She would busy herself with books at first, then they gave her some general filing and paperwork. She was happy to help, and refused payment, since they were already supporting her, financially and emotionally. They were happy to have her helping, as their cases took up so much time already. 

She always wanted to bother Spencer at his desk, sit on his lap, interrupt his work flow, but she contained herself. It was enough to watch him think. He looked so cute when he was thinking.

There were two cases during this time, and she was not asked to join either of them. Garcia had been briefed on her need for “a couple hours of alone time each night,” which made things much easier. She flew longer when she was away from Spencer, not out of fear, but out of energy release.

Both cases were relative successes, and Spencer came back alive and well after each one. She had become good at pretending in her past life, so she contained her relief until they were alone, peppering him with kisses when they got home.

Now that the sexual tension was more relieved, Hotch seemed less worried about them. He would check in on occasion, but he seemed to think that it had passed. Elia felt bad about hiding it from him, but they weren’t really doing anything. Not yet anyway.


	38. For Science

“I can’t believe the unsub tried to hit you over the head with a trophy deer!” Elia said. She was keeping her distance now. When they got home, however, she had protective cuddles planned.

“Yeah, thankfully Morgan was there to warn me,” Spencer replied.

“Well we all know your face is your best asset, pretty boy. Couldn’t let the unsub destroy it, could we?” Morgan teased, “Elia would never forgive me.”

Elia gently punched Morgan’s arm, and Morgan pretended that it hurt. He still teased them, but she didn’t think he actually believed it. “Come on, we all know you gotta look heroic for Ms. Garcia,” Elia shot back.

“Look heroic? Dragoness, I am heroic.”

“Oh yeah. Only Morgan could save Reid from rampant deer heads,” Prentiss scoffed.

“Besides, Morgan doesn’t have to look heroic for me. He already is,” Garcia added, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Elia and Spencer arrived at his car, and Garcia let go of Morgan to give Elia a hug goodnight. The parking garage still freaked Elia out a little, but they were always escorted in groups now. That made it better.

“Goodnight all!” Elia called. Prentiss, Morgan, and Garcia all waved and left to find their own cars.

Spencer unlocked the car and Elia slid in. As soon as the doors shut, Elia turned to him and put her hand in his. “Well, good doctor, it sounds like you had a difficult case today.”

“Oh yes, very difficult,” Spencer said, grinning, “I might need your help to wind down.”

“Movie in bed?”

“Sounds great.” He started the car, and the drove off into the night.

“You best not hog all the covers tonight, Spencer. I might need to go back to my own bed,” Elia teased.

“Come on, I don’t hoard all the covers!” he countered, but added more seriously, “Do you get cold?”

She laughed. “No, I rarely get cold. I just like cuddling you.”

“You don’t get cold?”

“I said I rarely get cold. But you keep your house pretty warm. Besides, I used to sleep naked!” She was grinning, but then she realized what she had said. Neither of them had seen the other without clothes. She hadn’t even seen him without a shirt.

After some consideration, he said, “Would you sleep better naked?”

She thought about it for a moment. Sleeping next to Spencer had consistently given her the best night's sleep she had ever had, but was he offering her an in? “Maybe…”

“Well, you could try it… You know, just to see…”

“Are you trying to get me naked, Dr. Reid?”

“I believe so, yes.” He grinned.

“Well, for science, we should test it.”

“Oh, yes definitely.”


	39. Cuddle?

That night, she came to his room in pajamas. She was a little nervous about being shirtless in front of him. It was a big step.

“Is that why you always have to wash your pajamas? You only have like two sets, and some tank/short combos.”

“Yeah. I just thought it would be better to wear them here. I mean you came to my door at all hours.”

“You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable…”

“How about I take it off after the lights go off and we just cuddle, see how it goes?”

“Of course.”

She flipped the light switch off, took off her pajamas, except her underwear, and slid into bed. It felt heavenly. His sheets were soft against her skin, and she had missed sleeping naked.

He carefully wrapped his arm around her waist, careful not to touch her breasts. She wanted to snuggle into him, but hesitated.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I just… I know you say the scars don’t bother you, but we’ve never cuddled with them… out.”

He said nothing for a moment, but then whispered in her ear, “Can I prove to you that I am not at all bothered by them”

“How?”

Spencer laid a gentle kiss on the ridge of her left scapula. She gasped quietly. He paused for a moment, but continued.

He followed the gnarled line of her scar by touch, brushing his lips along it. When he had kissed its entirety, he moved to the right one, following its curve as well. Elia was enraptured. His touch was so gentle, so sweet. She had forgotten that the back is an erogenous zone. Spencer’s slow and tender display was making her want more. She held back each gasp, for fear that he would stop.

He then kissed across to the center of her spine, and followed that scarred line down. He placed gentle kisses along the ridge across her mid-back, before finding her spine again. Then, he went up, brushing tender kisses up her spine until he reached the scar across her shoulders. He softly followed the puckered skin across with his lips, until he found her throat. There, he laid one final kiss and murmured, “Like that.”

Desire hitched her voice up, and she said, “Oh.”

“Are you alright, _myshka_?”

“Oh, I’m better than alright.” Elia turned to face him, pulling his lips from her neck. She could just see his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. She caressed his face with a gentle hand, and brought him in for a kiss.

He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his body. Her breasts pressed against the soft material of his shirt, heightening her already elevated arousal.

“Fuck, Spencer,” she whispered, “You are unfathomably amazing.”

Spencer slid his hand across her back, to her hip. With a slow purpose, he brushed his fingers up her abdomen, until his hand was just below her breast. “May I?”

“Please…” she begged.

His fingers trailed the edge of her breast, gently circling around her nipple. He got closer and closer, before rolling it between his fingers. She gasped, tossing her head back and pressing her pelvis against him.

“Lie on your back,” he said.

She obliged, pulling him with her. He straddled her thighs and leaned down. His lips locked around her nipple, and she gasped in surprise.

“Oh, Spencer…” she moaned, drawing his name out.

He peppered her chest with kisses, pausing to lick designs into her skin. She had one hand in his hair, one behind her. Her whole body was quivering, and she could feel wetness between her legs.

She wanted it to continue with every piece of her body, but she said, “Spencer, wait.”

He immediately rolled off, “Everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. I didn’t mean to scare you. That is what “wings” is for, remember?”

“Right, sorry. I just… That was a lot.” He was blushing so deeply she could see it in the faint light.

“Are you alright?”

He grinned. “Yes. Can I ask why?”

“Honestly? I’m really horny, but I am not ready for more…”

“Me neither.” He had pressed his groin into the bed, effectively hiding it.

“Cuddle?”

“Cuddle.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him towards her. He gently lay his soft head on her right breast, and she smiled.

Despite how riled up they were, it really had been a long case, so he fell asleep quickly. His gentle breaths against her skin lulled her to sleep as well.


	40. Wonderful Way To Wake Up

Spencer woke the next morning slightly confused. His pillow felt different, and it smelled better. Instead of his own smell, he smelled vanilla and Elia. He opened his eyes groggily.

She was sprawled beneath him. Her chest gently rose and fell in time to her breathing, and he was at the center of it. His arms were tucked around her, and his hair veiled one her breasts, the one he had his face buried in. He smiled despite himself. This wasn’t a bad way to wake up.

Fearful he would rouse her from sleep, he didn’t move from his delightful position. He scanned what he could see of her with eyes only. Her lips were parted ever so slightly, and her long hair was a tangled, dark halo on the pillow.

She let out a small sound, and he stilled himself further, fearing he had caused it. Another sound came, and her hips twitched ever so slightly. He definitely didn’t want to wake her now. Her lips parted more, and she shifted beneath him. His eyes flicked to her trembling hips, hidden beneath the blankets that he had had no cause to steal last night.

He wondered if she was pleasuring herself in her sleep, but he could see the arm draped above her head, and he could feel the one resting on his shoulders. He was curious what she was dreaming about.

As if to answer the thought, she moaned, “Ohhhhhhh, Spenceeerrrrrrr.” Low and drawn out. He was even more curious now, but his smile became a grin. It felt like a miracle that this wonderful woman would dream of him.

She wriggled beneath him in the sheets, clearly enjoying whatever dream Spencer was doing. Real Spencer thought to the night before. The sounds she had been making had urged him forward. He was almost ready to spill himself down her body when she stopped him. Maybe she was dreaming of what might have been?

He said he didn’t expect any more, and he meant it. Every bit of her body she shared was a gift. He would have been content with just being buried in her breasts for the rest of time. Especially if she continued those sounds of pleasure, building just above his head.

“Ohhhhhh Goooooood, Spencer. Ohhhhh yesssssss.”

He giggled into her chest. Sounded like dream Spencer was still doing well.

“MmmmmmmmmmmAH!”

He closed his eyes, and snuggled against her soft breast, enjoying the sounds she made.

Then, she woke with multiple confused noises, one of which was a question. “Spencer?”

“Good morning, Elia.”

“Yes, good morning.” She looked slightly worried.

“Did you sleep well? Good dreams? Sounded liked it,” he teased.

Her face streaked pink, and her mouth opened and closed several times. Each excuse she seemed to come up with never made it through.

“Don’t worry, it was fun to listen to. Sounded like I was doing well.”

Now she was scarlet. “I- well, I mean- I just- I can’t control what I dream about, Spencer!”

“I know. But you dreamed of me.” He pressed his lips into her breast. “I liked that. A lot.”

She shuddered, breath humming out. “You will be the death of me.”

“You know, I might be. In French, they call an orgasm _la petite mort_ , which translates to ‘the little/small death.’ So, if I play my cards right, I will be the death of you many, many times,” he murmured into her breast bone.

The desire was so clear on her face, it was impossible to mistake it for anything else. She leaned down for a kiss, and he leaned up to meet her lips. She pulled him towards her, wrapping herself around him. As she broke the kiss, she said, “You are incorrigible. How didn’t I know that?”

He kissed a soft wet line back down to her breasts. “I am pretty sure you knew that.” He flicked his tongue across her nipple.

“Mmm, fuck! You’re right, I might have known that.”

His teasing eyes met hers as he flicked her nipple again. “You just didn’t get to see me flirtatious before. Flirtatious with a woman who dreamed of me as she lay beneath me.”

“Ooooo my gOD,” she gasped, then added, “Are you jealous of the dream?”

He kissed a path to her other breast, licking occasionally. His fingers found one nipple as he moved to the other. He ran them over it. “Maybe a little. What did you dream of?”

“This, and... more.”

“More?” He continued his wet kisses down her stomach towards her panties.

“Spencer, I am really wet. I need to take a cold shower before I jump your bones right now. The dream didn’t help.” She looked genuinely embarrassed, but also taut, like she was holding something back.

“Sorry, sorry.” He slid off of her, facing a similar, very erect, problem in his pajama bottoms.

“Oh, don’t apologize. I just… Whew… You are fantastic, did you know that?” She kissed him and rolled out of bed.

He watched her walk out. That extra sway in the hips seemed to be for him, and her tousled curtain of hair framed her butt so nicely. He lay back in the bed. How lucky can one guy be?


	41. Teasing

Elia definitely masturbated in the shower; she was so achingly horny, how could she not? Each fantasy was Spencer. Spencer, kissing her everywhere. Spencer, face between her legs, like in her dream. Spencer, sliding his cock into her- 

“Ohhhh fuckkkkk” she hissed. That was a big one. She leaned against the shower, but was still frustratingly horny.

She thought of Spencer whispering “la petit mort” between her breasts, promising her many, many orgasms. She thought of him masturbating to her in the bedroom. Maybe he heard that. Maybe it helped him finish. “Ohhhhhhhmmmmm” She tried to stifle it, but the sound had made the fantasy so much better.

She washed up quickly, trying not to think about the glorious man in their bed. Their bed. Delicious.

She emerged from the bathroom in just a towel. Spencer would expect her to go straight to her room, but instead, she tiptoed to his door. With her ear pressed against the wood, she could hear him gasping, then a low, suppressed grunt. She almost opened the door to join him. Almost.

By the time she was dressed, he was already in the kitchen. She didn’t say anything about what she had heard. If he had heard her, he didn’t say anything either.

Work today promised to be slow, with the case ending the day before. Hotch usually gave some time off between cases, but there was work to do, and it was Friday. Since she had returned to her previous weight, most of her old clothes from her old job fit, so she had started wearing business casual to “work.”

Today, she wanted to torment Spencer, just a little. Skin tight black pants that clung to her every curve, and off the shoulder aubergine sweater that was almost too low cut. Her hair was loose, cascading to her hips in luscious waves. He may not have said anything about her shower time, but he noticed her outfit.

She held out a plush arm. “Touch it, it’s soft.”

He ran his hand down her sweater, and she leaned forward, flashing cleavage. His eyes were captured by her breasts, and she could see the events of last night playing through his mind.

“And you call me incorrigible,” he said, smiling.

“You are,” she replied, walking to the door. She took special care to sway her hips as she walked, hoping he would enjoy. She knew the sweater sat right above her butt, letting it peek out like a surprise.


	42. Distractions and Lies

The car ride to the office was mostly uneventful, but Elia caught Spencer peeking at her outfit several times. He didn’t focus just on her breasts, though. He would take it all in, her clavicles, her neck, her long dark hair, loose and wavy. Once, he met her eyes, but he seemed to be looking at their color rather than her. He seemed to be in disbelief about her presence in his life. She felt much the same way.

“Woah, mama! My dear Dragoness, you brought the game today!” Derek called as she walked in, “What’s the occasion? Pretty boy finally get your attention?”

If only Derek knew. “Spencer has my attention a lot,” she replied innocently, “We live and work together.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has your attention All Night Long.” He punctuated “All Night Long” with thrusts.

“Sometimes, when he reads to me. He is a good reader.” She was still trying to feign ignorance and innocence, but Derek was too close to home on that last one. Her eyes flicked to Spencer, and he was busying himself with something on his desk.

“Sounds like it’s you who wants Elia’s attention all night long,” Rossi commented.

“Can you handle that, Lover Boy?” Prentiss teased, “She has dragon wings with claws. Imagine her stamina. Imagine her wings.”

“Oh yeah, Derek, you gotta be careful,” Elia chimed in, “Who knows what happens when I reach that special moment? Maybe they come out then too?”

“Fine, fine. It’s just hard to resist. You are such easy targets.”

“What do you mean?” Elia asked, genuinely curious.

“Come on, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen! And you two get all fidgety. Especially Pretty Boy over there.”

Spencer disguised a laugh as a cough. Derek seemed to think it was about being “called out” for Spencer’s reactions. Elia knew it was about his lips around her nipple, trailing ever lower…

Dammit. She shook her head. She really needed to get her head out of the gutter.

Hotch walked in, killing Morgan’s next taunt before it could escape. Everyone got to work, and Elia was given a stack of cases to file.

She focused on it intently. It was easy to not be horny when looking at the horrors encased within. When she finished filing, she got work from Garcia, and then more from Hotch. It was a pretty busy day, and she was thankful. She didn’t need to make a fool of herself in front of everyone.

She was truly engrossed in a case file when Spencer came up behind her. “Time for lunch. Come on, you need a break.”

Everyone was eating lunch together today. With the case files no longer there to distract her, she found herself being distracted by Spencer. He absent-mindedly ate his food, listening to Rossi tell him about the plans for his next book.

She turned away from Spencer to try to focus. His lips were suddenly so distracting. She wondered what they would do when they got home…

“Garcia, are you organizing the files in your computer?” Elia asked, “Today is a good day for it.”

“Oh, no. I keep everything organized as I get it. I spent today cleaning out in other ways. Tidied my office and worked to improve the security.”

Elia relaxed as she listened to Garcia explain what she had been doing to the security systems. Thankfully, Garcia was a good talker.

Morgan sat next to Garcia, and interrupted. “So, what did you and Spencer do after you got home from the case?”

“Well, I didn’t go on the case, per se. So it wasn’t difficult to relax. I read a little, and Spencer went right to sleep,” she lied, smoothly.

Spencer, hearing his name, joined the conversation. “You saw how exhausted I was last night.”

“It just seems like something happened between you,” Morgan teased, “You have been stiff around each other all day.”

Elia froze, panic setting in. Suddenly, everyone was looking at them, including Hotch. They hadn’t done too much. Had they? Should they confess?

“If you must know, I accidently saw Elia, um, after her shower…. She had left the door open, since she thought I had gone to bed. I saw her from…. her back. She covered and we had an awkward moment, but we are figuring it out,” Spencer managed.

Elia could kiss him! Well, more than usual.

“Oh ho! Well those are the risks of living together. I can’t believe it didn’t happen before!”

This time, Elia was able to tell the truth. “Yeah, neither of us had… seen the other before last night.”

Hotch gave Elia a careful look, and moved his gaze to Spencer. Emily also looked intrigued, and studied them both.

Spencer was able to withstand it better than she did. He added, “Yes, it is so hilarious. Now, if you will stop profiling us, we can get back to lunch.”

Morgan thankfully let it drop, and no one said anything else about. Elia made a mental note to thank Spencer when they got home. It was a good lie. If only they didn’t have to lie.


	43. No Pressure, Chère

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: death mention

The rest of the day was without incident. Morgan tormented them both, but that was expected. Hotch didn’t ask to speak with either of them, so Elia felt like they were mostly in the clear. If they did have sex, telling Hotch would be so awkward after this.

“Our Spencer saw a girl’s butt yesterday!” Morgan teased as they took the elevator to the parking garage. “Was it your first?”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Yes, Morgan. It was the first posterior I had ever seen in my entire life. I have gone this far in my life having never seen a butt.”

“Dead butts don’t count.” Morgan replied, laughing.

“Oh come on!” Elia said, “That’s gross. I had to look at those all day. Maybe you would like to do your own filing from now on? You can see all the dead asses you want.”

“I’m good,” Morgan said.

“You really are incorrigible today,” Emily said, but she was smiling.

Spencer and Elia looked at each other and tried to suppress a grin as they approached Spencer’s car.

“Alright, now that you are safely to your destination, I’m going to go tear Garcia away from her computer. Swear she doesn’t even stay this long for a case.” Morgan waved and headed back to the elevator.

“I’ll see you Monday, and not this weekend, hopefully,” Emily said, turning to find her own car.

Spencer and Elia just managed to get inside the car before they burst out laughing.

When they recovered, Elia said, “Thank you for saving us at lunch today. Morgan is too observant for our own good.”

“Yeah, it was close. He was right though, you have been stiff. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay… Um, can I confess something?”

“Of course.”

“I can’t stop thinking about last night. And the dream… You are very distracting, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer grinned. “I find you to be distracting as well.”

“It’s not good in front of the team! I mean you just sit there with your face and your hair and your lips…” She trailed off, staring at the dashboard intently.

“It must have been a really good dream.” He leaned in and kissed her.

She pulled him into it more, pressing herself against the center console.

“Wait, wait,” he said, hoarsely, “Let’s get home first.”

She situated herself back into the seat, and they drove off.

They said nothing for several long minutes. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would say something ridiculous, like “Pull over the car and fuck me right here.” She wondered what he was thinking. There was no doubt in her mind that he was interested in her. Why, she couldn’t say, but she knew it to be true.

Finally, he said, “So, this morning?”

“Yes?”

“Did you… have a nice shower? It sounded like you did…”

She was less embarrassed that she thought she would have been. “I did have a wonderful shower. Very necessary. Did you have a nice time alone in the bedroom while I was showering? Because it sounded like you did.”

He said nothing for a moment, before finally managing, “Yes, I did…”

“Spencer, this morning, I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted you to keep going. I wanted ditch work today and just… see what happened.”

“Me too. When you said you were wet? Fuuuck.”

Elia had never heard Spencer swear. For some reason the word combined with his now gravelly voice set a fire inside her. “What about when you told me about all the orgasms you were going to give me?”

“All the orgasms that I would be  _ willing  _ to give you. No pressure,  _ chère _ ”

She loved terms of endearment in different languages, and here he was using it against her. The car fell into silence. She couldn’t reply to that with anything coherent. When they got home, she might have to take another shower. Maybe she would fly first.

Spencer had different plans. Once they were safely inside their apartment, he pulled her into an intense kiss. She fell into it, wrapped herself around him. He walked her back to their room, kissing down her neck.

At the door, he paused to finger the bottom of her sweater.  “Can I take this off?” he asked, between gentle nibbles of her neck.

“Yes,” she breathed. 

He slid the sweater off, trailing his fingers along her skin as he went. Her bra was as black as her pants and lacy.

“For me?” he asked.

“Of course.” She ran a hand down to the top of his belt, where his shirt was tucked. “Can I take off yours?”

He pulled away, apprehensive. “What if you don’t… I’m mean I’m not…”

She gently caressed his cheek with one hand. “Spencer, you are incredibly attractive, and the sweetest man I have ever met. But, we don’t have to take anything off tonight, if you don’t want.”

With her words, he looked a little less nervous. “Well, I mean… You are shirtless. Only fair. But… Can we turn off the lights?”

“Of course.” Elia found the light switch, and flipped it off. She hoped that one day they would see each other completely naked, with no fear, but that might take time. He had told her of his time in high school, his terrible experiences. She wanted to show him the good parts of being naked, but that took patience. She had patience.

The room was darker than it had been last night, as the moon had not risen. She padded over to him, hands out to try to find him in the black.

She brushed his shoulder. “There you are. Are you sure you are ready?”

“Yes.”

“You can say no, Spencer. It’s okay.”

“I’m ready.”

Her fingers brushed across his clavicle to find his tie. She loosened it slowly, partially for effect, and partially so he could stop her if he needed.

When the tie was undone, she pulled it out of the collar gradually. The silk whispered through the collar, breaking the silence in the room.

She placed a gentle hand at the triangle of exposed chest. It was small, but it was a start. She ran two fingers down until she found the buttons of his shirt. As she opened more buttons, she leaned in and kissed from where his tie had been. Her gentle lips followed the ghost line of buttons as his shirt parted.

A low groan escaped Spencer as she got closer to his belly button, and she stopped.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She pulled his shirt loose from his pants, and ran her hands up his body to his shoulders. In one motion, she slid the shirt from his shoulders and enveloped him with her arms. She pressed her chest into his, and whispered, “Are you alright?”

“Elia, I am wonderful.” He threw his arms around her and pulled her close. “And so are you.”

“I told you, Spencer, you are hot.”

“I could listen to you say that all night.”

She leaned into his ear. “Dr. Spencer Reid, you are incredibly attractive and just my type. And I think you are hotter than Derek Morgan.”

Spencer burst out laughing, and pulled her onto the bed.


	44. Impressive

“I shouldn’t have had you turn off the lights. Now I can’t see you,” he said.

“I can turn them on again, if you are comfortable with that.”

“We’re already in bed…”

“Is that a no?”

“I’ll get the lights, since you got them last time.”

She felt the bed shift as he got up. His hands rubbed the wall until suddenly light exploded into the room.

Elia closed her eyes against the brightness, and Spencer crawled back into bed with her, hiding under the sheets.

Elia didn’t say anything about it. She just pulled the covers off of her a little, exposing her black lace chest. She lay there for a moment, breathing deeply. Spencer seemed distracted by the gentle rise and fall of her bust.

“What’s on your mind,” she asked, eyes tracing the ceiling.

“You. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

“Neither can I.”

He pulled himself on top of her, his naked torso finally visible in the light. He was as skinny as he felt, but she liked that. She let her face show how much, and he visibly relaxed.

She sat up, peppering kisses across his chest. Her lips found one of his nipples, and he gasped. Had no one done this to him? She slowed her kisses, trailing them across his collarbone like a necklace. Her fingers traced lazy lines on his stomach. She found his belt, and started to undo it.

“Wait…” he gasped.

“I just don’t want the buckle to bother us. Pants on.”

He nodded, and she continued. The belt sliding off was far more alluring than the tie, and she allowed herself to think of what was inside his pants.

“My turn,” he said, dragging her attention away. With a deft thumb and forefinger on each bra strap, he slid them off, brushing them down her shoulders. He reached behind her to find the strap, and released the hooks in one motion.

“Impressive,” she whispered, anticipation making her voice breathy.

“Rambling geniuses need to be good at certain tasks to seem like a worthy investment in the bedroom.”

“I thought you were ‘worthy’ before that”

“I know.” The grin that she had given him couldn’t leave. She loved it when he smiled with his all. It would fill him with clear delight, crinkling his eyes, scrunching his nose, and his mouth would take up almost half of his face. Just seeing him like this made her inexplicably happy.

Her bra had come off while she was enraptured by his smile. He leaned down for a kiss, and she enveloped him, pulling him against her body. 

As he started to kiss down her neck, she let go. She knew what his aim was. His gentle kisses followed the curves of her body until he reached his goal.


	45. Scientifically

Spencer had a magic tongue. His lips wrapped around Elia’s left nipple, and his tongue flicked it. Each motion made her gasp, and she would hear him giggle occasionally, enjoying her reaction.

His hand was on her other breast, rolling her bud between his fingers. He was alternating the motions of his tongue and fingers so that she was squirming beneath him.

“Oh fuck, Spencer! Where did you learn this?” she gasped breathlessly.

Her nipple popped out of his mouth, causing her to arch slightly. “It is quite simple really. I have been testing different actions to see your reactions and narrowing down combinations that cause the best reactions from you.”

“So you are pleasing me scientifically?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

“Well, it’s working,” she panted, “No one has ever made me feel like this.”

“Really?

“My previous partners were, shall we say, less than concerned about my pleasure.”

Spencer’s face fell, “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around his head lightly. “It’s alright. Just means less expectations and better pleasure in the future, right?”

“I suppose…” He trailed off. His fingers still played with her nipple absent-mindedly, and she made small noises beneath him as he thought. “Wait, have you orgasmed?”

She was offended by that. “Of course I have! Just… I mean, I have.”

“Just what?” He turned his head, resting his chin on her sternum so he could meet her eyes.

“I mean, it’s not a big deal. I’ve orgasmed many times. Just… Never with a partner.”

He lifted his chest, and sat back on her hips. She whined at the loss of contact. “No one has ever made you cum but you?” he asked, incredulously.

“Most dudes think it is too hard to get a girl off. Their efforts are usually fruitless anyway.” She shrugged into the sheets. “I can take care of it on my own.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he was afraid to.

She relished the view for a moment before asking, “What is it, Spencer? You can always ask.”

“Well… I don’t want to push, but- I mean- I could… I could, uh, help?”

“You want to make me cum?” she asked. She needed to make sure he was actually offering this. She wanted him to fuck her more than anything, now. After the long, distracted day at the office, she wanted to spend the whole weekend fucking.

“Yes, but only if you want me to.”

“That is a very kind offer, Spencer. If you are willing, I would love for you to try.”

“Try? No, no, _cherie_ , I will succeed.” Spencer leaned down, and laid a kiss right above the button of her pants. “Is it alright if I go down on you?”

All she could do was nod.


	46. Finally!

Instead of kissing down, as she had expected, his lips found her breasts again. He focused all this attention there for a moment, which left her wondering what his plan was.

His hands slid down her body and found the button of her pants, undoing it and the zipper. Then, he started to kiss down, dragging her pants down with him. She lifted her butt to help.

Her pants were a black pile on the floor, and he gently spread her legs at the knee caps. He kneeled down, and kissed her ankle bone, his finger swirling lazy circles on her thigh. His lips kissed and licked a wet trail up the inside of her leg. She was shivering with desire, her panties already damp.

When he reached the highest part of her inner thigh, she gasped, excitement filling her, but the trail went across her pubic bone and down her other leg.

She groaned, “Spencer, please!”

“In good time. Don’t worry.”

His lips trailed down her right leg until he met her other ankle. Then he changed course. He slid up between her legs. His lips were inches away, but his fingers brushed across her pelvic bone, before brushing the damp fabric of her panties.

She gasped, arching into it. She was aching with desire. “Spencer, please…”

“As you wish.”

He pressed his lips against the cloth barrier, and he licked it with one long swipe.

“Ah, fuck!” She gasped.

He peered up at her with huge eyes. She nodded in assurance.

He turned his focus back, licking the material up and down several more times before looping the sides of her panties in his fingers. As he started to pull them down, she raised her hips. He chuckled at how eager she was.

With her panties gone, she was truly naked in front of him. He looked at her, his eyes following her peaks and valleys. She had never felt more desired.

With a tentative lick, he began. His tongue ran up and down her labia, not focusing on any one place. He swirled his tongue between the folds, pointing it slightly. She was getting wetter with each lick, and this seemed to encourage him.

He pressed his face a little closer, and tongued her hole. He seemed to be purposefully avoiding that special place.

She was about to beg again, but he finally flicked his tongue across her clit. Her legs twitched beneath him, and he did it again.

His tongue was magical, even more so now. That feeling was building inside her as he teased her. Stopping and starting, changing direction, changing speed.

She couldn’t believe the delightful sight between her legs. Spencer’s shaggy brown hair dancing below her, and his intense, brown eyes meeting hers. He seemed to like watching her performance. His fingers gently gripped her thighs, and his head bobbed in time to his licks.

He noticed that she was close, and settled on a pattern. Fast swipes of his tongue, and he buried his face deep inside her.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” she cried, her nails gouging the bed. Her body arched up, and she came. Her body vibrated as he continued to lick her sensitive clit. Her legs twitched with each pass of his tongue.

“Holy fuck, Spencer,” she panted, “You are an artist. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He lifted his head slightly.

“Wh- But, I came.”

“I’m not done.” With a devilish grin, he slid his fingers between her lips, inside her. With some probing, he found her G-spot.

Elia had never found her G-spot before. All of her masturbation had focused on her clit. This new sensation took her breath away.

He swirled around the spot with slow circles, then he pressed the fingers in, kneading the spot with each finger. He massaged the spot, letting her clit rest for a moment.

A deep pleasure built inside her. He was starting so gently, but she knew what was coming.

He went faster, sliding his fingers in and out of her, curling them up on occasion to stimulate the spot. This time, he watched her as the wriggled under his touch. Her soft moans punctuating the twitches in her legs. Her breasts danced above him, and he couldn’t resist. Soft kisses turned to gentle nips as his lips worked their way up to her breasts.

With a tongue swirling around her nipple, and Spencer’s adept fingering, she was getting close again. She couldn’t believe how good this was, how good _he_ was.

He laid gentle kisses and nips to her other breast. His teeth tenderly grazed it, and she bucked.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he whispered around her nipple.

“Mm hmmm,” she whimpered.

“Good.” He pressed his fingers against her G-spot and lightly sank his teeth into her breast. She jerked beneath his touch, and cried out. His name filled the room as she exploded.

He made her cry out an aria as he swirled the spot inside and nipped around her sensitive breast tissue. He drew her orgasm out until she collapsed into herself, spasming with pleasure. She held herself in the fetal position, after shocks coursing through her body. He gently brushed the skin on her thighs to help her come down.

She almost told him she loved him then, in the afterglow, but she wanted him to know it wasn’t just this that she loved. She held it back. There would be a time to tell him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, fingers still trailing up and down the skin of her legs.

“The best. Better than anything.” She giggled. “That barely made sense.”

“Ready for round three?”

“Round three?”

“Women can orgasm many times in a row with little refractory period. Some women can manage over a hundred in an hour. Besides, we should make up for lost time.”

“If you insist…” she said, a little delirious. How could she turn down more pleasure?

He pursed his lips, “We can stop, Elia. I don’t want to push.”

“No, no, let’s see how far we can go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rolled onto her back, and he got back to work. He slid his fingers inside her, finding the G-spot easier this time. His lips locked onto her nipple for a moment, before working their way back down to her clit.

His rhythm was magnificent. He deftly licked her clit and stimulated her G-spot in time, causing pulses to echo through her body. Everything was so sensitive, she felt the sensation building again.

She lost count of her orgasms somewhere after four, when they ran together. He stopped when she collapsed in on herself again.

He pulled his body away, allowing her to come down free from touch. “Sorry, was that too much?”

She took several deep breaths, trying to steady herself. “No, but almost. Holy fuck. I haven’t done that well with myself!”

“I promised you many, _many_ orgasms, didn’t I?” he teased.

“I didn’t know you meant them all in one night!”

“I didn’t. That wasn’t all of them. If you want more, I am here to provide.”

She held her arms out to him, and he curled up with her.

After a few minutes of deep breathing, she could move without twitching. Her hand slid down his naked chest and found the top of his pants. She ran her hand on the outside, feeling the bulge pressing against the fabric.

He gasped, and she felt his cock shift. She did it again, squeezing a little.

“Elia, wait. You don’t need to do that.”

“I want to,” she murmured.

“I mean, I… I’m not ready for that.”

She pulled her hand away, resting it on his hip. “I feel bad… You made me come so many times. What about you?”

“Your pleasure is enough for me, _stellina_.”

“If you ever want more, let me know.”

“Of course. Are you going to fly tonight?”

She yawned, and cuddled into his back more.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he said, snuggling into the bed.


	47. After Glow

Elia’s breathing softened behind him quickly. Spencer had managed to exhaust her quite thoroughly. Her arms were gentle around his naked torso, and he felt wonderful.

He tried to fall asleep himself, but all he could see behind his closed eyes were her reactions. He could still hear the pleasured moans escaping her, and he couldn’t rest.

He carefully slipped out from her embrace and went to the bathroom. His erection was growing to be painful. He hadn’t planned on relieving himself like this again, but apparently it had become necessary.

She had offered to reciprocate, but how could he ask that of her? She was strong, but life hadn’t been kind to her, and he wanted to make her smile until it hurt. He wanted to bring her so many times she lost count. His cock felt slightly offensive inside of those wishes.

It was trying to escape his pants, so he freed it with a gasp. His mind wandered to her writhing beneath his tongue and fingers, her moans, her screams. His cock throbbed with the thought, so he clutched in his hand. Pleasure streaked through him immediately. He wasn’t going to last long.

An eidetic memory was helpful in this way. Sometimes it meant that he had to remember the terrible things he witnessed, or that he had to remember those that were lost. At that moment, it allowed him to play the events over and over again.

He thought of her hesitant but tender kisses down his chest. How she understood his fears and did not fight or question them. How delighted his body made her, and her desire as she pulled of his belt. How even as she was about to pass out, she thought of his pleasure.

Then he thought of her gasping, the surprise as he brought her time and time again. Her body quivering and twitching as he licked her. He thought of how she tasted. He thought of how happy she was.

His mind slipped to fantasy, and he pictured a relationship, a sort of forever. He pictured her free to choose her residence, but wanting to stay with him. He thought of his cock burying itself in-

He grunted his pleasure into his free hand, while the other stroked him to completion. He wondered if she could hear his suppressed pleasure as he had heard hers. The thought threatened to harden him again, so he let it slip away.

He relieved himself and washed his hands. He didn’t want her to feel bad that he had masturbated instead of asking her to do it. For a time, he wanted it to be about her. He couldn’t expect anything of her. He had been thinking about this for a long time, and getting to give in was making him feel slightly guilty.

When he climbed back into bed, her arms slid around him. She drew him in close, and he snuggled into her embrace.

“Everything alright?” she murmured, voice stained with sleep.

“Yes,  _ cariña _ . Everything is wonderful.”

Sleep came much easier now, and he welcomed it.

\---

He woke before her the next morning. She was curled behind him, an arm draped over his hip. Her fingers would twitch in her sleep, and they traced lazy circles just above his pelvis.

He slid out of the bed, again trying not to wake her. He had plans for this Saturday that he had to prepare for.

She stirred slightly, but he kissed her cheek. He had found her to be a deep sleeper, at least around him, and that worked to his advantage.

He spent the next forty-five minutes preparing a huge breakfast; bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, toast, and pancakes. He set the food, and a vase with a violet, carefully on a tray , and brought it into her. Perfect timing, she was just waking up.

She rubbed her eyes, and asked, “What smells good, Spencer?”

“Breakfast.”

When she saw the display carefully arranged, her jaw dropped.

“Good morning,  _ enaid _ .”

“Breakfast? Spencer, you are too good to me.” She was blushing. He knew that it was a good idea.

“Or no one has been good enough. Besides, your legs might be a little… sore. From last night?”

She laughed, and accepted the tray of delicious foods. He went to the kitchen and got his own tray and her laptop. As he slid in bed next to her, he said, “I think our original plan for last night was movies in bed?”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You are the best, Spencer.”

He could almost hear more there, but she simply opened the laptop and queued up a movie.


	48. All You Have to Do is Ask

The morning disappeared into the afternoon as they watched movies together. They didn’t stay in bed the entire time, but they tried. Elia was euphoric. Spencer cleared the plates when they were done, then curled against her hip, laying his head on her breast to watch the movie. She couldn’t find the words to describe how unfathomably fantastic everything was. 

After a couple of movies, she wanted to take a shower. Spencer didn’t think she smelled bad, but she had worked up a sweat the night before. She offered him a spot in the shower, but he politely declined.

Once she was clean, she wrapped herself in a towel and went straight into Spencer’s room. He was reading something on the bed, and he hadn’t put on a shirt again since the previous night.

“Spencer?”

He looked up just as she dropped her towel.

His eyes became wide and he took her in. She was curvier than she had been in a while, soft. Her waist cinched into a bit of an hourglass, but she had a tummy.

“Elia…” he started.

“We don’t have to do anything, I just like being naked around you, and watching you enjoy my nakedness.”

“Elia… I don’t know if I can…”

She picked the towel off of the floor, and covered herself. “Too much?”

“No, I just… I want to… I was going to wait, but I want to…”

“You want to what?”

“I want to have sex with you, Elia.” He looked furious with himself for admitting it.

“I didn’t get naked to seduce you, promise. But I want you inside me, Spencer, I do. Were you holding back for yourself or for me?”

“Some of both, but… mostly for you.”

She walked to him, towel still covering her, but his eyes found her curves beneath the terrycloth.

“Spencer, I know you worry about me, but I am okay really. You have never made me do anything I didn’t want, and I trust you. I want you to tell me what you need and desire. I have lived a life, but so have you. You shouldn’t be left wanting.”

“I- I- I can’t- It’s unfair to ask those things from you…”

“Why? I want to give them Spencer. Whenever you want. All you have to do is ask.”

His fingers found the top of the towel, and he pulled it open. It fell away, leaving her exposed. He kissed her collarbone, tenderly, and licked his way to her breasts.

“Last night, I learned you like a little bit of teeth,” he said, nipping the skin across the top of her left breast.

“You’re distracting me, Dr. Reid,” she chided.

His teeth found her nipple, and he raked them across it. “Am I?” He nipped his way down her stomach, and back up to her other breast.

“Yes, you are.”

“You know, what fascinates me about breasts is how the dominant culture of the United States treats them. Most cultures don’t fetishize breasts as much. Breasts are a secondary sex characteristic, but so are beards. We don’t make bearded men wear face masks, and most people don’t become aroused at the sight of them. Breasts are enjoyable for both partners, but the hyper fixation has limited women’s clothing options. I can walk around shirtless, but you cannot.” He paused every four words or so to pepper her breasts with kisses, licks and nips. The combination of his talking and the sensations was quite effective in distracting her.

“I had noticed that,” she panted, trying to focus, “I saw many more topless people during my brief stay in Europe. And topless women in adverts.”

“My point is: I believe I have a breast fetish.” He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked, drawing a low moan from her. “And yours are marvelous.” He rolled her other nipple between his fingers, squeezing slightly.

She decided to let herself be distracted, to lose herself in the moment. He would ask when he was ready.


	49. Don't Be Nervous

Spencer lay his head on Elia’s breast and was quiet for a few minutes. She looked down to see him lost in thought, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing lines onto her stomach. She swept the hair from his eyes and brushed it back.

“Elia?” he murmured.

“Yes, Spencer?”

“I have a confession.”

“Mmmm?”

“I’m- I’m nervous…”

She ran her fingers through his soft hair. “It’s alright. I understand. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You have been wonderful…”

“But?”

“But… You are beautiful and amazing and- What if I’m not good enough?”

“Spencer, you already better than good enough. I really,  _ really _ like you. Everything about you. You are the best partner I have had, and not just because of the earth-shattering sex last night.”

He looked up, chin resting in the soft tissue. “Really?”

“Really and truly.” She wanted to tell him, but she was afraid. Would it be coercive now? Would he believe her?

“I just- I’ve had some bad experiences…”

Spencer had told her of them. They had been trading bullying experiences from high school, doing some rounds of misery poker. She thought she would win, then he told her a story with a blindfold, no clothes, and the entire football team. She had held him then, knowing it still hurt him. She had wanted to take that pain away. She still did.

“I would never hurt you, Spencer. When you told me what happened, I… I wanted to punch them all as hard as I could. I wanted to scoop you up and save you. I… God, I can’t believe they did that.”

His eyes softened slightly, and he relaxed under her touch. “I know you wouldn’t do that, but the fear lingers. Like, what if my, uh, parts, aren’t up to standards?”

She laughed. “Size doesn’t matter. The worst sex I have ever had was with a 10 inch dick. It  _ hurt _ . The best sex I have ever had was with you, sans cock.”

“What if it’s weird looking?”

She thought for a moment. All penises were weird looking to her. That didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy them, it was just true. She didn’t think that would help him, though. “What if you suddenly remember what I used to do for money? What if you remember that I have been touched by death, and the scars are from demonic wings that rip out of my body?”

“Those things don’t bother me. You, Elia, are the person I lo… like. I like you as a whole.”

“Same here, Spencer. It wouldn’t bother me if your penis was huge, or tiny, or if you didn’t have a penis at all. I like  _ you. _ ”

“You do?”

She kissed his head. “I keep telling you.”

“And I am still more attractive to you than Morgan?”

“Of course, Spencer. I can tell him that, if you would like.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I- No,” he stammered.

“Well, I can keep telling you, at least.”

“Elia, I wanted to have sex with you the night we first kissed. I was too scared… I am still terrified, but… I trust you. I want to. Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t want to push.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Condom?” he asked.

“I’m clean. I got tested when right when I met you, in the hospital. And I can’t get pregnant apparently. Are you clean?”

“Yes, I’m clean.”

“Good, no condom, please. Remember, you can use the word too.”

“I know,” he murmured.

His tongue licked trailed across her chest, and he curled his fingers inside her, priming her for his cock. He swirled around her G-spot, pressing into it occasionally. When she was close to orgasm, he slipped his fingers out. She groaned at the loss of pleasure, but she didn’t have to wait long.

His cock sprang free of his boxers, hard and ready for her. Her eyes widened at the size of it, delight making her features sparkle.

“Are you sure you are ready?” he asked.

“Yes. Please…” She wanted it inside more than anything.

He positioned himself, and slid inside slowly. Each inch he gain elicited a pleasured sound from her. When he reached the end, he slid out, drawing a low moan from her. She embraced him, and he pulled her up, so she was sitting in his lap.

She rolled her hips around his as he thrust up into her. Her arms were around his neck, his around her waist. Her moans were right at his ear, prompting him to thrust harder. Her legs, wrapped around him, pulling him deeper.

He found himself grunting despite himself. She was squeezing his dick from the inside with strong muscles, “Fuck, Elia,” he murmured in her ear, “That feels amazing.”

He nibbled on her ear lobe, bringing small noises from her throat. His fingers brushed around her hip and found her clit. He adjusted his position and pressed into her clit in the same moment. She cried out, hips trembling around him.

He increased his thrusts, timing them with his attention to his clit. She couldn’t believe how good the rhythm was, how good he was.

“Oh god, oh my god, Spencer, yes! Yes!” she squealed. Her hips’ smooth rotations were becoming jerky, spasming in every direction.

He held himself back, trying to withhold his orgasm until hers. The waves of tightness inside her were making it difficult to focus, and his cock was twitching inside her.

“Oh, fuck, Spencer, I’m gonna-” Pleasure burst through her. Her whole body shuddered with it, and her walls squeezed him. He maintained his thrusts through most of her orgasm, before he came, filling her. He slid in and out a few more times, before burying himself deep inside, gasping.

At this point, he was holding her quivering body up. He gently laid her on the bed, and lay on top of her.

As she settled on the pillow, she gasped, “You were worried?”

“Yes, I was. But I am not as worried now. That seemed… nice for you.”

“Nice, Spencer? Fuck, don’t sell yourself short. I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

“But-”

“Spencer,” she interrupted, “You are attractive, sweet, intelligent, funny, and unfathomably talented in bed. You are a catch. Sorry, you can’t fight me on this. These are all facts.”

He smiled a half smile despite himself. She liked his full smiles better. She had noticed he held back his smile, only letting his full one out on accident. It made her want to kiss him, kiss a face-splitting grin onto his face.

She cupped his chin, and pulled it towards her. She kissed him with all of the love she couldn’t confess, all the affection she had, and everything she hoped they could be.

When she let him go, he looked bewildered, but grinned moments later. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”


	50. Now is Not the Time

“Spencer?” she murmured, starting to feel sleepy from her orgasm.

“Yes,  _ cielito. _ ”

Her initial thought fell to the wayside, and she asked, “Where do you find all these terms of endearment? I’ve heard at least five different languages.”

He blushed, deep scarlet. “I, uh, I look them up. I know you like them, so I wanted to find as many as I could. I started with Russian, because I can speak it, but I moved to French, Spanish, and Italian because of your love of Latin. The Welsh one was for the secret place you hold for the language you never got to learn.”

“Spencer, that is the sweetest thing, I just- God, I just- I lo-”

Spencer’s cell phone interrupted her declaration of love. He let out a long groan. “That’s Hotch’s ringtone.”

“He gave you the weekend off!”

“Serial killers don’t constrain their murder to weekdays.”

“I know…” She would just have to wait to tell him.

He slid his cock out of her, causing both of them to gasp, and reached for his phone.

“Wait, Spencer?”

“Yes?”

“Now is NOT the time to tell him.”

He looked confused, but then it dawned on him. Her naked body on the bed, the one he had just been inside. “Right. No. Not a good time.”

He answered the phone, and she could tell he was trying to keep frustration out of his voice. So much for a weekend of sex. “Yes, Hotch… No you didn’t wake me… Yes, I assumed that was this was about… No, I can be there in an hour… Yes, I’ll see you there… I’m sure Garcia will be happy to have her… No, I can tell her… Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry… Alright, bye.”

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” she groaned.

“We should, uh, shower. I don’t think there is enough time for two, so…”

She grinned, and climbed off the bed. “Have to save time, of course. No other reason.”

“Please don’t tempt me, Elia. We will be late, and Hotch will be suspicious.”

“Tempt you? When have I ever tempted you?” she teased, leading him by the hand to the bathroom.

They made it to the office in 45 minutes, and Spencer seemed pleased. He kissed her once while they were in the car, before both of them fell into professionalism. He led her to Garcia’s office, and resisted the urge to kiss her one last time.


	51. Trial Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Death mention, murder, cyanide, poison,

Spencer walked into the conference room feeling good. He shouldn’t have been feeling good, as he had been called in on a murder case, but he couldn’t help it. He suppressed the grin he had, which now felt like a permanent thing because of Elia.

“Welcome, Reid. Let’s get started,” Hotch said. If he was suspicious, he wasn’t showing it.

“Alright,” JJ said, “Seven people have been murdered in a small diner in Northern Virginia, about 20 miles from D.C, four patrons and the three employees who were working at the time. The ME found the cause of death to be cyanide poisoning, by inhalation. Two weeks ago, four people died in at a party due to cyanide laced punch.”

“So he is using multiple methods of ingestion,” Rossi said.

“Or testing it. Cyanide is not particularly difficult to acquire. It’s found in the seeds of some fruits, like apples or apricots. It would require some knowledge of chemistry, but with the internet, almost anyone can learn to make it. Combine that with black market on the deep web, and you have a relatively easy poison for an unsub to get their hands on,” Spencer commented

“But there are easier poisons,” Emily said, “Rat poison is sold at Walmart, and most states haven’t started to limit its sales. Bleach is also an effective poison, and you can buy that in bulk with no problems.”

“True,” Reid replied, thoughtfully, “But only 30% of people can smell Hydrogen Cyanide, and they might not know what the it is even if they can smell it. The people who can say it’s like bitter almonds. That’s easy to hide in food or in the air. Most people don’t expect almonds to be deadly.”

“But why murder so many at once?” Rossi asked, “This seems like a spree, rather than a specific target.”

“Maybe it’s a test. The unsub used liquid and airborne cyanide. Maybe they were trying to see which they liked better?” Reid pressed his fingers into his lips. For a moment, he was distracted by Elia’s image, writhing beneath his finger’s efforts. He let his hand fall to his side casually, hoping no one noticed.

“If it is a test, what is the final goal?” Emily asked.

“That’s what we need to find out,” Hotch said, “We leave in 20.”


	52. Amour

Spencer came in to check on Elia one last time before he took off, like he always did. Garcia didn’t think anything of it now, or she had restrained herself.

“What’s the big bad doing now?” she asked. They had allowed her to have confidential knowledge of cases when she started filing them.

“Mass cyanide poisoning.”

“Oof, scary.”

He leaned in, keeping a careful eye on Garcia, “I have to save the world, but know I would let nothing less interrupt us.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest. She didn’t reply to that, for fear she wouldn’t be able to contain herself. She instead settled for: “Have a good case, Spencer. Be safe.” She liked this confidence he had found. She should have sex with him more often.

“See you soon,  _ amour _ ,” he whispered. It was so quiet, she was sure only she could here. She felt heat rising in her cheeks, and she was tempted to pull him into a closet.

He was gone before she could tell him she loved him.

“What was that?” Garcia asked, pen twirling in her hand.

“What was what?” Elia asked, feigning ignorance. The blush still tinted her cheeks, she could feel it.

Garcia got out of her swivel chair and marched to see Elia’s face, still pink. “Aha! He did say something. I knew it! And you’re blushing! Something happened! You have to tell me.”

“Garcia! Nothing is happening!” Elia retorted, but the blush was rising in her cheeks.

“Ooooooo you like him!” Garcia said in a sing song voice. “Elia and Spencer, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-”

“Garcia, seriously, shut up! What if someone hears?”

Garcia giggled. “Sorry, sorry, I can’t help myself. It is so sweet! Spencer has always been protective of you, I just never thought… Well I don’t know what’s happened, so I don’t know what to think.”

Garcia sat on the couch that Elia had slept on many times and patted the spot next to her.

“No, Garcia, I can’t…”

“Come on! I won’t tell, but I need to know!”

“You shouldn’t even know… Spencer could be fired, and I could be kicked out of his house.” Elia gasped and put a hand over her mouth. She had forgotten about that. She was in his house under FBI supervision. Hotch would think she had clouded Spencer’s judgement and move her. What if the sent her away? Oh god…

Seeing the look on Elia’s face, Garcia stood and hugged her. “Shhh, don’t worry. I will use all of my FBI powers to prevent that from happening. But you have to tell me!”

Elia thought about it for a long time. Garcia sat back down on the couch as she waited. She was being as patient as she could be.

After a lot of consideration, Elia finally relented. Garcia already knew something was up, what was wrong with some more details? Besides, she had been desperate for someone to tell. It was fantastic having Spencer, but she wanted to share her love for him with the world.

She started at the beginning, that first night, and told Garcia almost everything. She heavily edited their sexual explorations, leaving out the majority of the details. She did mention how good he was, how consensual, how sweet. By the end, Garcia was on the edge of her seat, a hand over her mouth to prevent the shrieks of delight from escaping the room.

“When he left just now, he called me ‘amour.’ That means love! All of the previous terms of endearment were harmless: my dear, my sky, and others that don’t translate well. But none of them meant love!”

“Oh my god!!!” Garcia squealed, “That is so sweet! I knew Spencer would be great to a girl if he got one! This is so wonderful. But do you love him?”

“I do. I have for weeks. But I don’t know if he did it was on purpose or not? What if it was just a word? What if he didn’t focus on meaning, but just wanted a new word to use for me?”

“Oh come on, Elia,” Garcia scoffed, “This is Dr. Spencer Reid we are talking about! You know that he researched each word endlessly, making sure the meaning was accurate, that it didn’t have seedy entendres, and that it made sense. He was saving ‘amour’ for you! And it’s in French! The language of  _ looooove _ .”

“I dunno… I mean, how could he love me.”

“Elia, you’re a treat! Don’t sell yourself short.”

“No, no, not that. I know he  _ likes _ me, but how can he  _ love  _ me?”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Elia snorted. “I do, but he ‘saved’ me. If I told him I loved him, he would bring up transference, again. What if he didn’t think my feelings are real?”

Garcia pursed her lips. “Yeah, he saved you, but you saved him too, remember? Still, Spencer will require some convincing. He often doesn’t believe people care for him. But he will believe you. He’s a profiler, he will be able to tell if you’re lying, hopefully.”

“I hope so… I just wish he hadn’t done this before a case! Now I have to stew until he gets back!”

“He probably did that on purpose,” Garcia said, giggling.

“I know.” Elia sighed.

“Well, not just to make you stew. He was probably worried you wouldn’t say it back.”

“I’ve been trying to say it for weeks!”

“But you didn’t say it, and Spencer can be a little thick around women. How did you convince him you liked him in the first place?”

“I don’t know if he believes it even now.”


	53. Creamer

Spencer sat in the car looking out the window. Elia had sat like this last time she was on the plane, and he found himself sitting by the window on all the flights and car rides since then. She had seemed so fascinated by the view, even with her ability to fly. Ah, Elia. His  _ amour _ .

It was a little cheap to admit it as he left her with Garcia, but he couldn’t do it any other way. He needed to give her the time to process. She could, if needed, use the time to reject him more gently. Or think of ways to tell him she loved him back. He let that hope in, but carefully. It was a fragile hope.

The world outside was beautiful, he had to admit. He wondered why he had never spent time looking out the window before. Then, Hotch reminded him.

“Reid? Did you hear that?”

“Hmmm? Oh sorry, no. I was distracted. Beautiful view.”

Morgan laughed. “I’m sure that’s all.”

“Sorry, Hotch,” Spencer said, ignoring Morgan’s teasing, “What did you ask?”

“I asked about cyanide poisoning. Do you think it’s about hiding the poison, ease of access, or signature?”

“Honestly, I can’t know yet. All of them are viable options. Victimology is all over the place, but Emily is right. If he wanted to kill a lot of people, there are easier ways to do it. Maybe he is trying to call attention to himself?”

“Maybe he has an ulterior motive. These first few were obviously tests, and successful ones. There has to be an end game. Something about this is bothering me…” Emily said.

“What’s bothering you, Emily?” Hotch asked.

“I don’t know… I just, I get the feeling there is something we’re missing.”

“Well hopefully we figure it out soon. Don’t want anyone else to die on our watch.” Morgan was suddenly serious. Spencer had always wondered how he could do that.

\---

When they arrived at the local police station, Spencer could smell a fresh batch of coffee.

“I’m gonna grab coffee, does anyone else want some?”

Morgan, Emily, Hotch, and Rossi all asked for coffee. Emily and Rossi wanted milk in theirs, but everyone else wanted theirs black.

Spencer pulled out five mugs, wondering how he was going to get them all back, when Hotch joined him.

“Spencer, we need to talk.”

Spencer focused intensely pouring coffee into each cup, but answered, “Yes, we do. Hotch… I wanted to tell you earlier, but there didn’t seem to be a good time. Elia and I have… been intimate. I promised myself I would tell you when it happened, but then the case came up. Please, don’t be mad at her. I know it was against protocol, but I think I am in love with her.”

Hotch said nothing, and Spencer looked up. His supervisor looked dumbfounded, mouth agape. Finally, Hotch managed, “I was actually going to ask you why you seemed distant in the car. My god, Reid. That is… When? How long?”

“Literally minutes before you called.” Spencer’s face was becoming bright red, and he had no more coffee to pour. Shit.

He went to the fridge, and pulled out the milk. He saw a bottle of hazelnut creamer, and grabbed that too.

“Reid… I… I don’t know what to say. I can’t condone this, but you have grown close, and she seems exponentially better… We will have to have a conversation when we are done here. And I wouldn’t tell the team. I’ll have to think about what this means. She’ll be fine with Garcia, as usual, for now.”

“I know it wasn’t smart or moral, Hotch, but it’s just…” He curled his hair behind his ear. “God, I’ve never felt so good, Hotch. To be honest, I might quit the Bureau to stay with her.”

“Don’t do that, Reid. I don’t think it will come to that. Besides, she needs to be watched still.”

“For god’s sake Hotch! She has everything under control, her moods are regulated, and her coping mechanisms are sound. If we didn’t enjoy each other so much, I would have suggested we stop ‘watching’ her weeks ago.”

Spencer poured milk in two of the coffee cups, and then dumped creamer in his. Hotch took two of the cups without being asked, and Spencer managed the other three in his long fingers.

“We will talk about this when we are done with the case. I don’t appreciate you going behind my back like this, Reid.”

“I am sorry, Hotch. I really am. I didn’t mean to… It has been less than 3 hours since we… I was going to tell you. WE were going to tell you.”

“I believe you. We’ll talk more later.”

They returned to the team, and Spencer handed out coffee to the proper team members. He took a huge swig of his, gulping it down. He would need the caffeine.

“What will you talk about?” Morgan asked. His voice held none of his usual taunting, and Spencer started to realize how much trouble he could be in. 

He brought the mug back to his lips as a momentary distraction, then he lied. “Hotch was worried about how spacey I was in the car. He wants to talk to me about it later when we aren’t on a case.”

Hotch looked at him, surprised. Spencer guessed that Hotch hadn’t realized how good he was getting at lying. Bitterness coursed through him for a moment. If he hadn’t gotten good at lying, would the team ever leave him alone? After every new trauma that happened, they worried and hovered. They thought he was so innocent. Maybe he was naive, but he had lived more of a life than they gave him credit for.

He felt slightly short of breath and dizzy for a moment. He took another swig of coffee, realizing he must have been more tired than he initially thought.

He found that he couldn’t focus on what Hotch was saying. Or was it Rossi? He was feeling more dizzy, and it was becoming difficult to stand. He coughed, and that cough multiplied. Everyone looked worried.

“Reid? Are you alright?” Hotch asked.

Spencer started to fight for air, switching between hacking coughs and gasping. Why wasn’t there enough air?

He looked at his coffee cup and gasped. “The creamer! Hazelnut!” He tried to set the mug on the desk in front of him, but it slipped through his fingers and shattered on the ground.

Everyone’s eyes went wide. Spencer tried to reassure him, but couldn’t find the air to breath. His vision started to go black.

“Call a medic! We need a medic!” Someone yelled.


	54. Don't Leave Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hospital, intubated patient, IV, cyanide, coma

Garcia was researching potential cyanide buyers when the call came. It sounded different that most calls, but Elia tried to focus on the stack of cases in front of her. Garcia’s voice pulled at her, and she ended up listening.

“Oh… Oh my god… Is he okay?... The hospital?!... Oh god….” Garcia turned and looked at Elia, and a sinking feeling hit Elia’s stomach. Spencer?

“Yes, of course, Sir… No I understand… They live together… Yes, I think she would want to be there… Will he be okay?... Alright, well, we’ll see you soon…”

It was Spencer. “Penelope… What happened?”

“The creamer at the station was laced with cyanide. Spencer… He is in the hospital. You know how he likes his coffee…”

The world shattered. Elia could feel the shards of it piercing her body. “Is he going to be okay?”

“They… The doctor’s don’t know. He is critical condition now. They are giving him an antidote, but…”

“Penelope, I have to go! I need to be there!”

“Of course… Did you, uh, tell Hotch?”

“Tell Hotch what?”

“About you and, uh, Spencer?”

Elia felt even more weight crash upon her, sending the shards deeper into her. “No. Why?”

“He said he felt you should be there. I agreed, too quickly apparently, and he asked me what I knew… I said nothing, but I think he knows. But that’s good right? If he wants you to be there?”

“I- I can’t think of that right now. I will deal with that later. Right now, we have to get to the hospital.”

“Of course, dear, of course.” Garcia grabbed her bag, and they went for the door.

\---

Elia was taut, ready to snap. Her fear of Spencer’s death was causing her shoulders to rip apart inside her, but she held the wings in. A freeway at 80 miles an hour was not the time.

Garcia didn’t say a word the whole ride. Her focus was on getting them to the hospital as soon as possible. Elia was happy with the silence.

She thought of Spencer to try to calm down. Not of the current situation, but the good times. Dabbing pancake batter on his nose, him reading an entire Edgar Allen Poe compendium to her one night, cuddling as they fell asleep, his gentle back massages when her wings hurt her. She could feel tears threatening to spill, but she fought them too. A scream was tearing its way up her throat, but she bit her tongue. She was a tight line of control. She couldn’t let any one thing go, for fear the rest would follow.

As soon as Garcia stopped in front of the hospital, Elia sprang out of her seat. She heard Garcia calling after her, but Elia couldn’t stop.

Morgan, Rossi, and Emily were in the waiting room of the ER. Emily was pacing, Morgan clenching his fists, and Rossi trying to look relaxed.

“Where is he?” Elia asked.

“Elia, you can’t-” Emily started.

“Where. Is. He.” Elia repeated, voice harsh.

Hotch emerged from some corner of the room. “Elia, we need to talk.”

“Hotch, now is not the time. Lock me up and throw away the key if you want, but only after I see him.”

“No, Elia, we need to talk now.” He gestured to a private area off to the side.

She growled in frustration, but followed him.

“Elia…”

“Look, Hotch, let’s make this quick. I’m assuming you know, so let’s cut to the chase. Maybe I seduced Spencer. Maybe I used my “skills” against him, and he was helpless to it. Maybe I did whatever it is you believe I did, but I love him. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone or anything in my life. So you can punish me if you want, but later. Please, I need to see him.”

“You love him?”

“Yes, I do.”

Hotch pursed his lips. His thinking was so interminably slow she could scream. Her back felt like it was going to eat itself from the inside, and she was sure that Hotch was delaying her because Spencer was dead.

“That… That’s something to consider. Come with me.”

He led her through the corridors of the hospital. Her rising panic was bringing back her fear of hospitals. She remembered her desperation and fear from months ago, and Spencer had helped her through it. Would she become like the invisible Jacob without him?

Spencer was out cold and filled with tubes. His breathing was being helped by a machine, and there was an IV in his delicate hand. He looked frail already. He had been so alive just this morning…

She couldn’t hold back the tears now. It started as a single drop and quickly progressed to shoulder-wracking sobs. She collapsed into a chair as it overtook her. She didn’t care if Hotch saw, or what he was going to do.

She scooted the chair closer to Spencer’s hospital bed, and took his IV-free hand in hers.

“I love you, Spencer,” she whispered, “I love you too. I love you so much. Please, don’t leave me.”


	55. He'll Be Okay...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Coma, hospital

Elia didn’t leave Spencer’s side all day or all night. She barely acknowledged anyone as they came in the room, her gaze entirely fixed on the love of her life’s prone form. No one fought her. She was sure the whole team knew, but she couldn’t find the energy to care. Hotch already knew, and he was not happy about it. She was sure he was letting her stay by Spencer’s side until his coma became death. Then, off to some military compound to be studied or worse.

Her back ached like nothing else. She ignored it, but it was a constant pull in the back of her mind. Her wings never came out, but it felt like bone was grinding against bone constantly.

Sometime during the night, she passed out. She woke the next morning, her head lying on Spencer’s bed with his hand still in hers.

When she woke, Emily said, “Elia. Do you want something to eat or drink?”

“I, um, sure.”

Food and water was brought by a nurse. Elia drank the water, but the food looked unappealing.

“Elia?” Emily asked.

“Yes, Emily.” Elia replied without looking up.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Elia sighed. How many times would she have to come out over the coming days? “I do, Emily. I really do. And he doesn’t know it.”

Spencer’s finger twitched beneath her hand. Elia gasped.

“What is it?”

“He moved, Emily! He moved!” She stood, pausing for a moment to stretch the terrible shape of the chair out of her body, and leaned into him. When her mouth was a breath away from his ear, she whispered, “Spencer Reid. I love you. I love you so much. Please come back to me.”

Nothing happened. Elia slumped back into her seat, and took his hand again.

“He’ll be okay,” Emily said, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself too.


	56. What if He Doesn't Wake Up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Hospital, coma

Three more days passed, four days in hell total. She would eat sometimes, sleep other times. The hospital brought in a cot for Elia, and she pushed it close to his bed. Her fingers would hold his through her restless sleep.

When she could dream, the stories were varied. Sometimes, Spencer would die as she watched. The team would all cry, and send her away. In some versions, she got to go to the funeral, in others she didn’t. Other dreams involved him waking up. He would wrap his arms around her and tell her loved her. Those were the worst to wake from.

They removed the breathing tube on day three. He was able to breathe without assistance, but wouldn’t rouse.

Each of the team would rotate through, checking on Spencer and checking on her. They murmured things at her with concern, asking if she had eaten, slept, drank water. The only reason she started to maintain those necessities is so they would stop asking.

When she was alone in the room, she would talk to him. Spencer had once told her there was theory that patients in comas could hear the world around them, and she hoped that it was true. She would tell him of her life, good memories and bad. She would tell him things she liked about him. She would tell him she loved him, over and over again.

At the end of that fourth day, Hotch came in and sat with her. Spencer’s frail hand was in hers, and her thumb rubbed across his knuckles.

“They say he can wake up at any time. Whenever he’s ready.”

“He probably needs the rest. You work him too hard.” She tried for a joke, but it felt flat.

“Yes, we do. His prognosis is good. The sugar in the creamer helped combat some of the poison, and because we knew about the poison, the antidote was given to him only 20 minutes after ingestion.”

Her head fell to the bed, exhaustion a constant now. “Why isn’t he waking up then?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch said, soberly.

“I don’t know what else I can do…”

“You really do love him, don’t you?”

Her breath rushed out in a frustrated sigh. “Yes, Hotch, I already told you.”

“I know you did. This is more than transference.”

“Try telling him that.”

“He loves you too. You know that right?”

“I know,” she murmured, “He told me right before the case. Bastard slipped out before I could tell him…” She turned to him. “Oh god, Hotch what if he never wakes up? What if I never get to tell him?”

Hotch didn’t know what to say about that. “What are we going to do with you two?”

“You know I can’t answer that for you. Even with all that’s happened, I am still technically in protective custody.”

“I don’t know if living with Spencer counts anymore,” Hotch chided.

“I had forgotten. I understand if I have to leave his apartment.” She didn’t actually understand, but she couldn’t fight it. She couldn’t fight anymore.

“You would leave his apartment?”

“I know he would give up the FBI for me, but I could never let him. I would rather be a lab rat than upheave his life more than I have. He is too caring for his own good.”

“That he is.”

The conversation stalled. Spencer moaned and whimpered in his sleep, but Elia didn’t get her hopes up. He had been doing this since day one. She brushed his limp, stringy hair off his forehead.

Hotch seemed surprised when she started to sing, but she ignored him. She sang a Russian lullaby for Spencer, trying to soothe his terrible dreams. She timed her gentle strokes of his forehead with the beat of the song in her head.

He stirred but relaxed, dreams settling, or at least scaring him less.


	57. Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: coma, hospital, bruising

Everything was dark. Sometimes, Spencer would find his way into a light, but he could always tell it was a dream. The dreams were achingly peaceful. He and Elia on a porch, swinging gently. He and Elia cuddled in bed. A confession of love, a proposal, a wedding day. He needed to escape this false world and find her.

He could hear her voice. It coated his thoughts, making every dream clearly empty. Elia wasn’t really there. She was somewhere far away. He couldn’t focus on all of the words, but, sometimes, he would hear “I love you” over and over again. It gave him hope.

There were other voices, blending together to form one. He knew they all wanted him to come home, but where was it?

He travelled through the maze until he found a dream of himself. He was drinking coffee in a police station. The lack of breath scared him, but he knew he needed to go forward. This was the last real thing he could remember.

He slipped into himself, and he was choking, gasping. The coffee mug shatters, and he falls with it. Concerned faces swim at the edges of his vision, and he reaches out to them. Where is Elia?

It all goes black, and he fights it. No, it can’t go black again! He had to get free! He pushed, trying to find the memory again, but all he can see is darkness.

Then, he feels his hand. It’s his real hand, he knows it. The lack of sensation is replaced by a soft brushing across his knuckles.

He uses the hand to connect to the rest of his body. Arms, torso, legs, face. Finally, he finds his eyes. They are glued shut, but he is so close.

With great effort, he pries them open, blinking the glue away. A cacophony of sound greeted him, as well an unbearably bright light. His eyes shut against the harshness of it.

The brightness became easier to bear, and he tried again. He blinked several times, until his eyes focused. They met with the very blue eyes of Elia, hovering above him.

“Spencer? Spencer, sweetie, can you hear me?” Elia asked, worry lining her face.

Spencer could feel gentle strokes on his head, and the brushing on his knuckles. He smiled. “Yes, I can.” It came out like a croak, which surprised him.

A glass brushed his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth. Cool water poured down his dry throat, and it felt heavenly. “Thank you,” he said, voice slightly less rough.

“Oh Spencer, I was so worried about you!”

“So was I. What happened with the creamer? How long have I been out?”

“According to Garcia, two cops died out in the field, and two more were hospitalized with you. One of them didn’t make it, but the other didn’t use very much creamer. I don’t what happened after that. I, uh, I haven’t left your side. You have been out for nearly four days now.”

Spencer’s mind raced. He had figured out the creamer, but he didn’t realize so many cops had also drank it. Clearly, this was a goal of the unsubs, cop-killing, but he didn’t know if it was the end goal. Then it hit him.

“I’ve been out for four days?” He looked closer at Elia. She looked pale and exhausted. Her eyes were bruised with sleeplessness, and her hair was a tangled bun. Why hadn’t she gone home? But then, he remembered, “I love you, Spencer. I love you so much. Please, PLEASE wake up…” She had been speaking to him the entire time.

“Yes, Spencer, you have been. You’re just in luck. They brought lunch only minutes ago.” She turned away to bring him a plate of food, and he saw her back.

It was covered with bruises, layer over layer. The scars floated among the sea of colors, stark white in contrast. Some bruises were fresh, dark purple, some an almost blue, and some were a sickly yellow green. It looked like a galaxy formed of nebulous gases. It looked painful.

“Elia, what happened to your back? Did you get hurt?”

She spun back around, food in hand, and gently laid it in his lap. “Don’t worry about me, angel. I’m alright.” She was looking down to hide the horror on her face. Had no one told her?

The doctor came in right after this. He started checking all Spencer’s vitals and asking him questions in rapid fire. Spencer answered them all quickly, thankful that Elia had helped him cheat by telling him how long he had been out.

When the doctor was satisfied, he said, “Alright, Spencer. I’m glad to see you are awake. If you need anything, you can push the button there. We are going to keep you for a few days for observation, but you look a lot better. Try to eat something.”

Spencer thanked the doctor and tried to eat. Nothing looked good except the Jell-O, so he went for it.

Elia had sat quietly when the doctor came, but brought her chair back to his side when the doctor left.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine actually. I guess I just need the rest.”

Elia smiled. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m glad you’re awake. I was really worried.”

Oh. “Is that why your back is bruised?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Spencer, please, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

He sighed. “But Elia, I love you.”

Her head shot up, and her eyes met his. For a moment, Spencer was worried. Had she not even gotten it from amour? Had he misremembered his time under? Had her voice been a lie?

But Elia’s face broke into a tired smile. “Oh Spencer, I love you too. I was worried I wouldn’t get to tell you.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead, gently.

“But you already did tell me,” he said, “While I was out, it pulled me through. I knew my dreams weren’t real because I could hear your voice from somewhere else.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. “I didn’t know if it would work, but I had to try.”

He reached out with his IV free hand and took hers. “It worked, _amour_ , it worked.


	58. Real Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Hospital, bruising

As Spencer spooned Jell-O into his mouth, Elia had to hold back tears. She had been waiting for this for so long that the relief was overwhelming. Watching him eat was so normal, despite the hospital room, that it almost didn’t feel real. Patting his leg through the blankets seemed to help.

The team came in a few minutes later, and the room overfilled with support and praise. Spencer looked entirely overwhelmed, and Elia was worried they would realize she was still there. She scooted to the back corner, and let everyone coo over Spencer.

“You gotta be more careful, kid! First anthrax, and now this?” Morgan chided.

“I didn’t expect it to be in the creamer. How did he get it in there anyway?” Spencer asked

Emily snorted. “The unsub was less sophisticated than we thought. Through some digging, thanks to Garcia, we found him on surveillance at all three places. He was with a janitorial company, and there is footage of him inside all the buildings. You can actually see him planting devices or spiking drinks! I’m a little embarrassed that we didn’t catch him sooner.”

“I’m so sorry, Spencer! I swear, I didn’t think he would go in the police station. I was just pulling the footage from the first two scenes when… the coffee thing… I should have looked at police station surveillance, or checked, or something… I just-”

“Garcia, it’s alright,” Spencer interrupted, “I’m okay now. I guess I just needed to build a resistance to cyanide.” He laughed, and then coughed, which did not help his case.

Garcia looked like she wanted to wrap him up in a hug. “Still, Spencer, I am truly sorry. My killer keyboard skills failed you. I’m glad you’re better though. You scared us!”

“It’s okay,” he said, after taking a swig of water, “I’m okay. Don’t worry. Doctor said I should be able to go home soon.” As he said “home,” his eyes flicked to Elia.

Everyone’s eyes followed him, and the team suddenly remembered she was in the room. She shrunk into her chair, not enjoying the scrutiny. Pressing her back into the wall made her feel the pain in her shoulders even more as well. She hadn’t realized it had been bad enough to cause bruises.

No one said anything for a moment. Elia was the embodiment of the elephant in the room, an awkward situation brought to life. No one knew what to do.

Finally, Spencer said, “Show them your back, Elia.”

She balked at this. “What? Why?”

“They don’t know how controlled you have become. They don’t know what it costs. All they know is your wings haven’t come out, but they may have forgotten the wings even existed, besides as a vague thing to protect people from.”

She frowned, but she knew he was right. She didn’t relish the idea of being on display, but turned anyway, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder.

The gasps made her want to get a mirror to see for herself, but it was too close to her last time in a hospital room. She knew they were bruised, thanks to Spencer, and she really didn’t need much more than that.

“What happened?!” Garcia asked.

Elia turned around, letting her hair fall like a curtain over the damage. “I couldn’t leave his side, so I made them stay in.”

“Does it hurt?” Emily asked, gently.

“Please, don’t worry about me. I am okay. Spencer is the one who almost died.” She sat back in her chair, as if that would be the end of it.

JJ pushed the “call nurse” button by Spencer’s bed. “That looks pretty serious, Elia. We should have someone look at it.”

Elia felt fluttery, like she was made of air.

“I hope the internal damage isn’t too bad,” Rossi commented.

“Elia, you should have told us!” Garcia chided, “It looks really painful, and we could have helped.”

It was all too much: their concern, Hotch’s silence, Spencer’s hopeful eyes. “Stop!” she yelled, startling everyone, “Please stop! I know this is all temporary. I know I will have to leave all of you behind. It will be so much harder if you… care. Just let me be. I will heal.”

Everyone looked surprised by her outburst, even Hotch, who finally said, “Elia, we aren’t going to send you away.”

“What? How? I… I mean with Spencer… We… How would I possibly be able to stay?” She felt herself becoming hysterical. It was cruel of him to make promises he couldn’t keep.

“Everyone, I need to talk to Elia and Spencer. Alone,” Hotch said.

The team filed out. Each of them gave her an encouraging look as they left. Garcia even stomped past Hotch to give Elia a big hug. Elia didn’t tell her that it hurt.

The nurse came in as Garcia left, and Elia had to wait impatiently for several more grueling minutes while the nurse examined her.

“I’m not really sure what happened here, or how you did it, but it needs icing for sure.” The nurse pulled out a chemical ice pack from the supply cabinet, squeezed it, shook it, and placed it on Elia’s back. She then pushed Elia to sitting, and let the ice pack sit between Elia and the wall. “Call me if you need anything else.” The nurse left shortly after, and the room was silent.

Spencer forced himself to sitting, and addressed Hotch. “Alright, we’re alone. What are you going to do with Elia?”

Hotch sighed and sat down. “I honestly wasn’t sure what to do when I first found out, but you’re right, Reid. She has gotten much better at controlling herself. I think we can let her be out in the world, with occasional checkups.”

“But…?” Spencer prompted.

“But… Spencer, this is a mess. Thank goodness the Bureau doesn’t know about her, otherwise, they would have my head. They would think I that have been far too lenient with her.”

“I’m sitting right here.” Elia said, trying to keep her voice level.

“I’m sorry, Elia. This is why I was too lenient. You are a person, not an abstract concept on paper. I couldn’t let them lead a terrified victim away into the dark. I still can’t.”

“So what are you going to do with me?” Elia was hopeful, she prayed to everyone she could think of. She even prayed to Death, but she was careful not to think that she would be willing to do anything. She had a lot to lose now.

“Some of that is up to you. As of now, you are officially free from FBI watch. The rest of the team and I deliberated, and we agreed that it is fair. We have all been watching you compose yourself over these last few days. You have kept yourself calm, even with Spencer maybe being at death’s door. I was worried that he was the only thing keeping you from chaos, but I didn’t give you enough credit. Seeing your back confirmed it. Through great personal discomfort, you kept your wings at bay.”

Elia blinked. She opened her mouth and closed it. She searched Hotch’s face for hints of a lie. Had he just said what she thought he had said? “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome. As to where you want to live, that is completely up to you. The Bureau can help you find a new place to stay, or you can stay with Spencer, if that’s what both of you want.”

Elia’s eyes met with Spencer’s. She was almost afraid to ask, but before she could, he said, “If you are comfortable with it, I would love to have you.”

She felt the weight lifted, and sank into the ice pack. Its cooling numbness finally registered, and it felt good. Everything felt good. “Is this real? This can’t be real. It’s too perfect.”

Hotch considered her with serious eyes. “Yes, it is real. Do you want to keep living with Spencer?”

“Of course!” She smiled at Spencer. “I can’t imagine living without him now.”

Spencer’s face lit up and his smile could rival hers in brightness. “I can’t imagine living without you either.”

Hotch cleared his throat, and Elia’s eyes shot back to him. “There is the matter of you working as an assistant to the BAU. We could still use your help, if you are willing. We would pay you, of course. Now that you are not being officially watched by the FBI, the Bureau will stop funding your living expenses. Plus, it is an easy way to check in, and I know the rest of the team wants you to stay.”

“The team wants me to stay? I’d love to keep working, then.” She joy bursting through her. They all wanted her around.

Hotch smiled, and said, “I’m glad. Please, continue to be careful. I don’t want the headache of cleaning up.”

“Don’t worry, Hotch. I will continue to be good.” Elia said, barely able to contain herself. She wanted throw herself in Spencer’s arms and kiss him everywhere, but she held back. She was grinning excessively, and she almost jumped for joy. How was it possible her life was going this well?

With that, Hotch brought the rest of the team back in. For the first time, she truly felt like one of them as they fussed over wounds and self-care.

Morgan couldn’t even find the words to tease them about this. He only managed, “How could I miss it! I thought it was impossible, and you did it right under our noses! I still wouldn’t have guessed, even with the show Elia was putting on while we waited for him to wake up!”

The rest of the team congratulated them, asked them questions, and generally enjoyed the new dynamic. After a while, a nurse shooed them away, saying both of them needed to rest.

Despite all the commotion of the day, Elia finally felt a sense of peace. She lay down in the cot next to Spencer, ice pack still on her back, and held his hand. He squeezed her hand back, and said, “I love you, _corazón_.”

“I love you too, _alma_.”


	59. Getting Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: bruising, blood mention

Spencer was declared well three days later. Elia refused to leave his side to fly for those three days, but promised to fly when she was home, safe and sound.

The rest of the team helped them get back to their apartment, more worried about Elia than Spencer since her back hadn’t fully healed.

“Gee thanks, guys,” Spencer said, pretending to pout.

“I will worry about you enough for everyone,” Elia said, kissing him.

After everyone left, Elia prepared for her flight. Spencer held her, gently, as he had done before. Her wings shot out within a minute, and she felt a great relief.

“Remind me not to hold them back like that again,” she gasped, as her back stitched itself with lightning speed.

“I will try,” he teased, kissing her cheek.

With that, she flew into the night. Spencer felt comfortable watching her ascent now, and she waved at him as she broke away from the buildings and tore into the sky.

When she returned hours later, she looked serene. “That was exactly what I needed, Spencer.”

“I know. Let’s see how your back is doing.”

He helped her shift back, and examined her for bruising. The discoloration and swelling had gone down, but he still wanted her to ice it.

“I’m fine, Spencer. Don’t worry.”

“But I will worry! Come on. Remember when you made me ice my bruise on the plane? Do I need to get a doctor?” he teased.

She sighed far more audibly than was necessary, and let him place a large bag of ice on her sore back.

“You know you love me,” he said.

She leaned over, careful not to disturb the precariously balanced ice, and kissed him. “I do.”

\---

She started officially working at the FBI full time. It started with her continuing to file, but when Hotch learned of her desires to be a profiler, they started getting her input on active cases. She wasn’t allowed in the field, but she would sit in the conference room, and join Garcia to help there. They raised her salary accordingly, and she started to save for a rainy day.

On a couple of occasions, she would find someone who had been touched by Death. She and Spencer made it a side project to help these people. They created an online forum (with Garcia’s help) for those who had felt Death’s touch. Not all who joined had been given “gifts,” but all were welcome. Whenever she and Spencer had extra time, they would try to meet with people who had a gift, to help them come to terms with it and learn to control it.

Soon, many organizations knew of their efforts, and any strange hospital cases involving a supernatural element were sent their way, including ones from abroad. Out of seven billion people, a lot more had been touched by Death than Elia could have imagined. Spencer liked to think of it as the other side of his work at the BAU, a preventative measure along the capture of serial killers after the fact.

The true nature of this work was kept a secret. While she and Spencer were famous in some circles, their names never reached the papers for this work, nor did it reach the upper brass of the Bureau. Hotch thought this was a good idea, and so did they.

The team was surprised to see how well they worked together. Once everything was out in the open, the full weight of their relationship was revealed. They didn’t allow public displays of affection at work, but they were always close. They would finish each other’s thoughts often, and sometimes communicate in a way that no one else could understand until they explained. Morgan teased them, saying “It’s like having double the Reid.”

Things were never better for Elia than they were with Spencer. Sometimes, they would argue, but he was never manipulative, never cruel, and never abusive. When they fought, she would often fly so they could both let off steam. When she came back, they would talk it out, both of them calmer for the space.  
She never heard from Death again, but she supposed that was a good thing. She also never contacted her old housemates again, for fear of the unanswerable questions they would have. She made new friends, and found a new life now that she was free.


	60. Epilogue

_**Three Years Later** _

Elia stood on the porch of their hotel room. The wind was picking up off the water, swirling her dress and hair around her. Half Moon Bay was sprawled in front of them, waves gently lapping the shore. The sun was just setting, painting the water with pinks, oranges, and yellows. She couldn’t believe they had gotten a beachside hotel.

Spencer came up behind her, wrapping his long arms around her waist. He peppered her back and neck with gentle kisses. “Hello, mi amor.”

“Hello, love,” she replied. She took in a deep breath. She had always loved the water. Why hadn’t she ever lived this close to it? She leaned into him, and he cradled her against his lithe body.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She sighed. “It’s perfect. You are too good to me, Spencer.”

“Or no one has been good enough,” he countered.

They had taken their honeymoon across the United States. They left his apartment and drove north, following the coast. They then traveled across the top of the United States and down the West Coast. Their plan was to go down from Half Moon Bay, California to San Diego and across the bottom half of the country until they found their way back home. They had scheduled a longer than usual pit stop in Nevada. Spencer wanted his mother to meet his partner. Elia was truly looking forward to it, as she felt Diana Reid and her would understand each other.  
Elia had such a wanderlust since she was young, and Spencer had been to most of the states for his job, but he had never seen the country. They decided to explore it together, with a blessing from the team of course.

The handfasting ceremony had been simple. Elia was hiding from her former life, and Spencer’s friends consisted of the team and a really close friend from college named Ethan. They held it at Rossi’s house. Spencer had wanted to give Elia more, but she thought it was perfect.

“Do you want to fly?” Spencer asked, gently tracing the scar line across her shoulders.

“Yes. The water looks magnificent. Wanna see how far we can go?”

He grinned. “Definitely.”

She turned and buried her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, letting them hang low so her wings would have space. She had almost complete control over them now and could call them at will, instead of with fear. It still hurt, but she had been doing it so long, it was almost normal.

She let the small pained sounds out as they came. Spencer recited a poem from memory into her ear. Each night, he recited something different. Tonight, it was Annabel Lee by Edgar Allen Poe. It helped the transition flow more smoothly, they had found.

When her wings were out, she cradled him in her arms. She had gotten much stronger in the years since she first met him. Her goal was to take him out with her, so he could see what she saw. After some trial and error, and one thankfully injury-free crash, they had figured it out. Her wings were a lot more powerful than they seemed.

As the sun started to dip beneath the waves, she launched herself from the patio. She couldn’t fly as high or as fast with Spencer, but she loved sharing this with him. She sailed a few feet from the water, and occasionally a wave would catch her feet.

As they got farther out, they started to see the secrets the bay held. Sea lions sleeping on the rocks, seals playing in the waves, pelicans making a final flight home. It was quieter here. They could no longer hear the city noise. Instead there was just the gentle rushing of the waves, and the sibilance of the water of the rocks.

When they got far enough away that the horizon held no city skyline, a whale peeked out from the water. It took a deep breath before crashing back down to the dark sea below. Spencer’s face lit up at the sight of it, and he started rattling of the statistics of seeing a whale fully emerge from the water. She kissed him on the cheek.

The last rays of sun leaked away, leaving nothing but miles of darkness. She found an empty rock and set Spencer on it, before sitting next to him. Occasionally, they would get sprayed by the waves crashing just below. She lay a head on his shoulder.

“The world is so beautiful,” she murmured.

“I never saw it until you showed me the hidden parts of it. I could never go out this far without you.”

“Boat?”

“Not like this. This peace, the fearlessness of the animals, the solitude.”

“It’s times like these when I truly think these wings were a gift. I’ll never be more free.”

He kissed her, gently so as not to unseat her, and she kissed him back.

“I love you, Elia.”

“I love you too, Spencer.”


End file.
